To The End
by Lyonene
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this, not for him, and certainly not for her. He was an apostate mage; and a former Grey Warden and she was a dog lord from Ferelden with a family to support and no coin. Another retelling of DA2. Anders x F!Hawke
1. Status and Coin

**A/N: **Nov 2014: This story has gotten an overhaul. A lot is the same as before but hopefully improved in terms of grammar and spelling, new scenes have been added, old scenes edited, and the chapters are longer, around the 2500 - 3000 mark each.

Liberties have been taken with the dialogue and scenes from DA2, I own zip.

* * *

**1: Status and Coin**

**It** wasn't supposed to be like this. Not for him and certainly not for her. They came from different worlds, never mind the subtle similarities or slight factors that seemed to give them common ground. He was an apostate mage; and a former Grey Warden to boot. Well, there was no former, once a Warden always a Warden, he just said he was no longer an _active _Warden. She was a refugee from Ferelden who had sought shelter in Kirkwall, where her family had originated as nobility.

They should never have happened at all…

* * *

**Isabeau** Hawke had spent her first year in Kirkwall basically working for free. Well, not really for free, but it seemed like it sometimes. She and her sister, Bethany, had been repaying a loan that had gotten them –them being their mother Leandra, friend Aveline, and themselves- into Kirkwall. A loan that would never have been offered if not for their uncle Gamlen's dubious contacts. A loan that had been repaid for the duration of the year with them acting as mercenaries.

It had been something their mother had positively hated, especially considering that Bethany had had no choice but to be involved. Leandra had hated that her homecoming had not been the one she had expected. She had expected to return to Kirkwall and live in both safety and luxury, something they all had been denied ever since… well, ever. At least for Beau and Bethany, they had grown up in a life lived on the run and knowing that the bad, poor times tended to outweigh the better moments. At least until Lothering, they had been doing very well there.

Leandra had hated the idea of them being mercenaries, being forced to work even harder just to survive then before, especially after Lothering. They had fled Lothering, like many others had, to escape the Blight, more importantly they had been trying to outrun the darkspawn that had overrun their picturesque village. The Blight had been on its way, the darkspawn had already been there. It was in Lothering that they had lost Carver, Leandra's youngest and her baby.

So really, Beau couldn't blame her mother for hating it all. Life here had sucked so far, at least for Leandra. She had to worry about Bethany winding up dead, or worse, apprehended by the templars and she was living in squalor.

For Hawke, working as a mercenary hadn't been anything out of the ordinary for her. She had been a soldier in King Cailan's army back in Ferelden, so she was used to taking orders and as used to killing people as one ever got. It had been a preferable alternative to the smuggling route she had been offered. Smuggling had seemed, on the outside, to be a cleaner sort of task, but Hawke wasn't about to risk getting involved in smuggling people, children especially.

Working for Meeran, the leader of the mercenary group they had signed on with, had presented them with some benefits. Benefits Beau was more likely to exploit then Bethany. Benefits such as being able to build a name for herself opposed to becoming just another Fereldan dog loving vagrant like many of her countrymen had become known as. Pulling herself out of the gutter she had unwittingly placed herself, and her family into, had been necessary. She wanted to provide her family with something stable, something closer to whatever it was Leandra had been convinced was waiting for them here. Another reason, the most important one was that Bethany needed to be safe.

Bethany was a mage, an apostate, just like their father had been. Magic had run in Malcolm's family line and in the Amell line, something Leandra tended to gloss over whenever reminiscing about being from one of the most prominent families in Kirkwall. Anywhere one went, outside of the Tevinter Imperium, if he or she were a mage, they were expected to be a Circle mage and under care of a templar, doing business that had been approved by the powers that be for mages. Mages who operated outside the Circle were known as apostates and were considered dangerous. They were to either be brought under circle, and therefore Chantry, rule or executed. Neither option was meant for Bethany, not if Beau and Leandra had their way.

Another thing about working for Meeran, and that fell under both building up her name and protecting Bethany had been that she had made contacts. Meeran's clients and contacts had become hers and some of these people she had forged connections with still remained friendly with her. She was hoping that when the need for a job arose, they would remember her. Given that when out seeking employment and a way into Kirkwall for them, Gamlen had not bothered to hide the fact that Bethany was a mage but instead bandied it about, Beau was hoping these contacts would _not_ remember Beth.

Kirkwall was no place for an apostate mage, let alone one trapped in the circle. That had been made abundantly clear from the moment they had arrived. Kirkwall housed a very large contingent of templars, led by Knight-Commander Meredith, whom Beau had never had the pleasure of meeting, fortunately. It was well known that Meredith had next to zero patience, or tolerance, for mages within the Circle. For apostates there was absolutely no mercy from the woman. It had been stories of Meredith that had put the Hawke family even more on edge when they had arrived.

In Ferelden, mages had lived in the circle tower, which was quite literally built in an upwards circle. Here in Kirkwall, the mage's circle was the Gallows. The Gallows had originally been a prison, a place for slaves to be sold and bought, a place of death and torture. It seemed only fitting that it now housed Kirkwall's Circle of Magi, who were treated little better than prisoners themselves.

For the last year, Meeran's protection and influence had kept them under the radar but the year was over and as much as Beau liked Meeran, she just wasn't interested in being a mercenary. At least, not for him, she'd prefer to keep a bigger chunk of the coin in her own pockets thank you. Now they were on their own which meant the templars were becoming more of a problem every day. They needed two things in order to remain free and get themselves out of the slums of Lowtown: money and status. Obviously, money would buy the status. Sadly, Beau did not have money.

Leandra had thought she was coming home to money. Even though she had all but thrown away the name of, and therefore any rights regarding, the Amell family, she still had expected Gamlen to welcome them home in comfort and style. As it turned out, Gamlen had lost everything and he had lost _everything_. The money, the family home, ruined the family name; he had made the Amell's nothing more than beggars and laughingstocks. Leandra had been devastated.

Isabeau and Bethany, not so much disappointed but upset for their mother. They had never had all that much to begin, just what they needed, and they had always been content with that. Now, all they wanted, was space to call their own and some relative peace and safety. They had discussed it all at night, huddled together in the tiny bedroom on the even tinier bed they shared. There were various ways of making money, of gathering coin, it was a matter of how far they were willing to go and what they were willing to sacrifice morality wise.

Given that they had one measly blanket and tended to sleep with all their clothes on, literally every piece they each owned, when it got cold and the food tended to settle poorly or was not enough. Beau figured she had yet to reach a point she wasn't willing to cross, outside of selling people into slavery, though if things got any worse, she might have to reconsider that. It was worse on nights when they could hear their mother crying from her own room. The house they now lived in, Gamlen's little shack, wasn't as large as their home in Lothering had been, not by any stretch of the imagination and that home hadn't been overly large either. So with space being cramped, almost any noise could be heard in any part of the 'house'. Gamlen slept wherever he passed out, which was sometimes in one of their beds, or in the main room. Beau had come home one night and found him curled up under their table.

They had heard rumors of a dwarf planning an expedition into the Deep Roads, which promised to be eventful if not prosperous. An expedition other mercenaries and refugees were trying to join with, for the very same reasons Bethany and Beau needed too. Status and money.

* * *

"**We** must be in the right place." Beau said under her breath as she glanced to her right, where just beside her walked Bethany. As usual, Bethany's dark brown eyes were darting all over the place, always on the lookout for templars. Beau also watched, not about to let those clanking righteous bastards drag her sister off to the Gallows or execute her, she was just less obvious about the watching.

Isabeau –though she generally went by just Beau, pronounced the same as bow- was now unofficially head of the Hawke family, something she had never wanted but found it imposed upon her. When their father, Malcolm, had died three years before the Blight, she had had the duty of caring for the family resting on her shoulders. She was the eldest child, her younger siblings –Bethany and Carver- had been fraternal twins and Carver had definitely been considered the baby of the family. Bethany had had to remain in the shadows because of being a mage while Carver had thrown himself into forging his own identity, rather making a name of himself around Lothering as something of a jackass.

Carver had definitely been a jackass.

He had died after throwing himself at an ogre when they had fled Lothering, like a fool.

Beau had found herself in an unwanted position, with an unwanted burden, and beneath it she had apparently flourished because she had found herself quite capable of making decisions and doing what needed to be done and there was nothing she wouldn't do to keep them safe.

Well, nothing so far, she had yet to reach a point that made her stop and think twice. Fortunately, when they had been offered a way into Kirkwall, there had been more than one option. She wasn't sure how it would have panned out if she would have had to be a smuggler.

She hadn't even really questioned it when Flemeth had offered them a way out of the death trap they had basically wandered into when running from darkspawn. She had accepted the deal, pocketed the amulet, and now… well, it had been over a year, she probably needed to get around to finishing up with her end of that bargain.

Now that the Blight over they could someday return to Ferelden, maybe. They had heard that Lothering had been totally destroyed and the land tainted, so maybe they didn't have a home to return to anymore. Maybe she was stuck with making Kirkwall home. Beau hated that idea because she was not overly fond of Kirkwall.

"You hear that the qunari have been given their own…" Beau ignored the gossiping shoppers she was trying to wind her way through on the way to the dwarves quarter. She had no use for the qunari and they were the Viscount's problem anyway. During one of the seasonal storms, a ship had struck the rocks that surrounded Kirkwall with the result of hundreds of qunari being stranded.

"That must be Bartrand." Bethany wasn't ignoring anyone but if it wasn't something relating to her, she really didn't need to know, it just got filed away. She gestured towards a dwarf that was breaking free of a crowd, shaking his head in visible frustration.

When Bethany moved towards the dwarf, Beau reached out to stop her. "Wait… let's get him alone, without distractions." She suggested, eyeballing the unfamiliar faces before her, many of them at waist level. That was a little awkward.

"Beau," Bethany whispered, moving to stand back against a wall as they waited, feeling her sister leaning into her. "What if… what if this doesn't work out, what will we do then?"

"Trust me, Bethie, he's going to take us on. We've got this."

* * *

"**No!"** Andraste's tits, human!" Bartrand shouted, exasperation lacing his tone though he didn't turn around, instead choosing to pick up his speed. "Do you have any idea how many people want to hire into this expedition?"

"Too many I daresay." Beau said, sharing a look with Bethany.

"But we heard you're going into the Deep Roads," Bethany's calm and gentle voice was a bit hard to pick up and she realized it so she cleared her throat, speaking louder. "Surely, you'll need all the help you can-"

Halting, Bartrand whirled around to face them, both women stopping so they didn't collide with him. "No, you're too late. I've already hired on as many people as I'll need." He snorted, looking them over from top to bottom. "This is the sort of deal that can make a man for like, I'm not about to take a chance and hire random humans, _female_ humans at that!"

Beau was sorely tempted to break out a dagger and show him just what a random, female human could do when properly motivated but Bethany's hand on her forearm stayed her. Instead, she took a deep, calming breath and reminded herself just what was at stake here, which meant she couldn't kick him over. Plastering a friendly smile on her face, she tried to keep the sarcasm from showing in her eyes as she said: "I'll buy you a drink before we head into the Deep Roads, everyone wins."

Bethany silently groaned, trying not to shake her head. Beau's approach with people always varied and she never knew what to expect with her sister, though generally sarcasm was a safe bet. Today apparently, it was sarcasm and Beau's slightly twisted sense of humor.

Bartrand didn't seem to find it amusing either. "Get in line, human. Half of Kirkwall wants to be my best friend right now." He gave them another once over, this one a bit longer than the last and decidedly more focused, especially on their clothes and gear. "You're looking for a quick way to get out of the slums."

Personally, Beau thought she looked fairly nice in her forest green, padded armor. It really brought out the green in her eyes and went with her raven hair quite well. She would, however, be the first to say that the peasant blouse Bethany was wearing, along with her ankle length skirt, emphasized her bosom just a bit too much.

"Find another meal ticket." He turned and strode away, not bothering to look back.

"Well," Beau said after a moment and trying to grin at her sister, her eyes guarded so Bethany wouldn't see the desperation that was beginning to settle in. "I think that went alright, how about you?"

"Are you mad?" Bethany demanded, her face displaying everything she felt, unable to hide it the way Beau did. Currently anger and desperation were vying for control. "What are we supposed to do now, Beau? We've got nothing to stop the next person who tries to sell us out, no money, nothing!" Her voice was beginning to break from struggling not to cry, tears welling in her dark brown eyes. "This expedition was our last chance."

Knowing this wasn't the time to spout off a witty one liner or crack an inappropriate joke, Beau stepped forward and hesitantly wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulders, trying to be reassuring. "Bethie, we've made a name for ourselves over the last year." She said softly, meeting Bethany's troubled gaze with what she was hoping was a confident look. "We will find something, trust me."

"I do trust you, Beau." Bethany said after a moment, managing a watery smile with an accompanying hiccup. She stepped back when Isabeau pulled away, wiping the wetness off her face. When Beau started walking again, she fell into step. "We need coin, status, something we can hide behind."

They both knew why, it went without say. As long as they were refugees, they were nobodies. They were easy pickings for the templars, the gangs, anyone looking to make quick coin or just feeling uncharitable and in the mood to cause trouble. They needed a way to pull themselves out of the mire and into safety.

"Maybe Gamlen knows someone who can talk to Bartrand for us."

Now that was just idiotic. Gamlen might have gotten them into Kirkwall, but even that had been at the expense of selling off their services for a year's time. It had also put him back in somewhat good grace's with some people he owed money too. Beau shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"It can't hurt to ask Beau, it's not like we have a lot of options right now."

Sadly, Bethany was right.


	2. Money Changes Everything

**2: Money Changes Everything**

* * *

"**Fifty** gold?" Isabeau arched a black brow, staring across the table at the dwarf who had just laid out a proposition for her, a rather pricey one. "Where the bloody hell do you propose I get that kind of coin? Actually, no, if I _had_ that kind of coin just lying about, do you think I would even be trying to get in on this?"

"I'm sure you can find an odd job or two, or four."

"Or a hundred." Bethany scowled, not looking overly pleased herself. The dwarf's name was Varric and he had introduced himself as Bartrand's younger brother. He was unlike any dwarf either Bethany or Beau had ever seen. He did not keep a beard like the others, and he wore a shirt that revealed a lot of chest hair. All of which he kept neatly combed. It was… odd. Varric was definitely from a different mold of dwarf. An odd but refreshing, if not slightly suspicious mold.

After their brief but unpleasantly memorable encounter with Bartrand, a man had pick pocketed Isabeau. He had lifted and then took off running with her pouch of coins, which coincidentally contained all the money they had in the world. It wasn't much, but it was theirs. Immediately the girls had chased after him, their hearts lodged firmly in their throats.

Just when Beau thought they would never manage to catch the thief, he was suddenly pinned to a nearby building by a bolt through his shoulder. Which was how they had met Varric. He had greeted them by giving them back their coin and introducing himself as Varric Tethras. They had only stared at him, a bit startled at the generosity and also a bit wary. When he had apologized for Bartrand and insulted him at the same time, Beau had been amused but suspicious.

They had then listened to him as he discussed the venture and explained his own interest in it, finally coming round to the point where he explained why he wanted them to join the expedition. It had seemed shady given that he knew nothing of them. Granted, they wanted to join up, but this just seemed a little too smooth.

It was then Varric had smiled and said: "On the contrary, I know all about you. You two have made quite the name for yourselves over the past year. The Coterie has been squeezing out all other mercenary operations and the only one still standing owes its thanks to you both. The name 'Hawke' has been on many lips these days. Not bad for Fereldan's fresh off the boat."

From there it had led to here. Varric offered to buy them drinks, something neither Hawke was about to turn down and then had discussed his proposition.

Beau was brought back to the present by Bethany's elbow being driven into her side, glancing over at her sister to find her leaning forward in her chair, staring at Beau expectantly. To buy herself more time to think –fifty gold indeed- she finished her pint, quaffing the last of the bitter ale. Slowly, she set down the pewter mug, looking around. Varric had brought them to the very back of the Hanged Man pub in Lowtown, where he apparently resided. Not Lowtown, but in the actual pub. She knew there were rooms for rent, but they were usually used and paid for by the hour. He did, however, have himself a very nice set-up back here, she would admit it.

They were sitting at a large table before a merrily crackling fire that was perhaps a bit unseasonal as it was fairly warm in Kirkwall this time of year, but nice nonetheless. The floors and walls were the same as the rest of the Hanged Man, dirt rough and rough wooden slats but Varric had given the otherwise dreary and rough room a bit of life with wall tapestries, the likes of which she had never seen before. She assumed that they were of dwarven make by the scenes depicted on them, or perhaps he had been nostalgic and had had them commissioned.

Off to the side of this room was a smaller one and she could very easily see that it was his bedroom thanks to the lack of a door. The bed was almost too large for the room; it was a human sized bed. It definitely was larger, and looked more comfortable than the bed she shared with Bethany.

"Yes, that is my bedroom and no, you may not jump on the bed." Varric said, having been watching her eyeballing his room the entire time.

"I-" Beau was flustered, wondering if he was serious.

"I'm just shitting you, Isabeau. If you want, you can give it one jump."

"No thank you, and I prefer Beau."

"Why?" He sounded genuinely curious and appalled. "Isabeau is a romantic name."

Bethany choked on her ale.

"Romanticism aside," Beau said quickly, needing to get this conversation back on track. "Let's discus this partnership, and all this money I'm supposed to come up with."

* * *

"**What** do you think of Varric?" Bethany whispered later that night as they huddled together for warmth under their ragged blanket on their hard, lumpy bed. She was really missing that unnecessary fire Varric had had going in his rooms right now. She was also a bit jealous of the idea of him having that delicious looking bed, especially when she felt straw poking through their already lumpy and tattered mattress.

Beau frowned, keeping her eyes closed, knowing that Bethany was probably watching her. Her suspicions were confirmed when something sparked before her, able to see the flash of light from behind her eyelids. "Bethie, you are not doing magic while I'm trying to sleep, are you?"

"I might be, now answer my question."

"I trust him more than I trust Bartrand, that's for damn sure." Beau snorted, reluctantly opening her eyes, not at all surprised to find a small, greenish wisp of light dancing between them. "I don't get a bad feeling off of him."

"Me either." Bethany chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, and when she spoke next, It was in an even lower whisper that Beau had to strain to catch. "Should we tell mother?"

Beau automatically shook her head. "Of course not! Not a word to her about it. You know how she gets."

They both knew only too well how Leandra could get. After the death of Carver, she had become fiercely protective of her two remaining children, more so when it came to Bethany. While she worried about Isabeau, more specifically what Beau was likely to get up too, she also knew her oldest could take care of herself.

Thinking of all that, and Carver, made Beau feel a lot of guilt, usually not aided by the fact that she could still hear her mother's words of '_Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you do anything?' _screaming at her in her mind from that fateful day.

"What about Gamlen? You know he always seems to hear about everything." Bethany pointed out next, unaware of the rather depressing direction her sister's thoughts had gone in. "What'll keep him from telling mother? It definitely won't be his sense of kindness."

"Then it'll have to be me."

* * *

**According** to Varric, they needed fifty gold to become partners in Bartrand's expedition. He also told them that Bartrand wouldn't be able to leave for at least for another month or two as gathering all the needed supplies, charting a route, and the rest would take some time. That gave them some breathing room, but not much.

"You could sell your magic." Beau suggested as they walked through Lowtown, both of them keeping eyes out for thieves as well as templars. "Like for parties or something."

"Sure, and while the templars are hauling me off to the Gallows, you can sell yourself for money to go into hiding for harboring an apostate." Bethany shot back, rolling her eyes when Beau stopped to examine some wares. "Don't even think about it."

"We don't have the money."

"That's not what I meant."

Beau knew exactly what she meant. Bethie meant to not have a sudden case of 'sticky fingers' and steal a few of those delicious looking pieces of dried meat. Her stomach growled and she stepped back, ignoring the sudden appearance of the seller and the dirty looks he was giving her. "Maker, I'm starving."

Bethany was used to going hungry, which was sad. She also knew Beau was the more active of the two, she definitely had more muscle on her frame, and she tended to eat like two starving men under normal conditions. She sighed, glancing back at the stall as they walked away. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Beau had every intention of coming back later, when Bethany wasn't with her. "I could sell myself for a few pieces of bread. Want lunch, my treat?"

"Isabeau, can't you be serious for once?"

"I _was_ being serious!" Her smile said otherwise and when Bethany looked like she might crack her own grin, Beau laughed. Not paying attention caused her to collide with someone, her victim stumbled but remained upright and she went falling back onto her butt. "Ow…"

A pair of rough, calloused hands found hers and pulled her back into her original vertical position. Beau got a glimpse of nondescript clothing and a pair of cautious but warm brown eyes. "Sorry." He, it was a man, said quickly.

"No prob-" Beau trailed off when he skirted around her and hightailed it away, disappearing easily in the crowd of people out doing their shopping. "Huh…"

"Must have been something you said."

"Shut up, Bethie."

* * *

"**A** letter came for you, it's on the desk." Gamlen said the minute his nieces trudged through the door, glancing up from his bowl of gruel. "I'm not your bleedin' errand boy, you know! I got a life of my own outside of being your mailman, business to handle…"

Isabeau snorted derisively, wondering just who he thought he was fooling. "Business at the Blooming Rose, uncle?" She asked sweetly, dropping down onto the floor alongside her Mabari war hound: Loghain. Loghain had actually come with them on the journey to Kirkwall, he had been a major part in their escape from Lothering when they had fled the Blight.

She knew that the actual Loghain her hound had been named for had died in a duel with the now king of Ferelden, King Alistair Theirin, who had made his fellow Grey Warden his queen. Briar Cousland, well, now Theirin, was also the Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, if the news they occasionally picked up held any truth to it. Apparently Loghain had lost his nut and wound up dead.

Beau wasn't about to try to piece together all the information she had heard, preferring to think of it this way. Loghain had been named after the Hero of the river Dane and not the mad-man usurper who had been done in at a Landsmeet, he was simply a dog with an interesting name.

Sighing, and ignoring her uncle's mutterings as he pushed away from the crudely constructed table, she leaned back against Loghain, smiling tiredly when he licked the side of her face. "I bet you had a better day than I did." She muttered, groaning when he stood up and moved away, in turn causing her to fall flat back onto the floor. "Thanks, mutt."

He whined, cocking his head at her.

She didn't bother moving, feeling like every part of her was aching, which it was. She was also fairly certain that her left side was still bleeding from a slice she had taken. It could have been worse though, the pretender guard could have actually landed the blow he had been aiming for.

Finding honest work had become quite the trial and mother must have known she and Bethany were up to something because she had begun keeping Bethany to home more and more these days. That left Isabeau to her own devices, and on her own in battles, which she didn't mind too much as it opened a few doors that would have remained closed if her sister had been present.

Today though, or was it yesterday, had finally paid off. She had gone to see Aveline, sort of as a last resort, preferring not to rely on her terribly honest and law-abiding friend for tidbits or jobs. But her being a refugee and all, there weren't that many people looking to employ her for something that was above board anyway and she had almost gone back to Meeran to beg him for a job. But, she had to try Aveline first.

Aveline had come to Kirkwall with them, fleeing Lothering with her husband, just like they had. Like the Hawke family, Aveline had lost someone that fateful day too, her templar husband, who she had had to mercy kill due to his being infected with the taint. She had also been a soldier in King Cailan's army, and one of the few who had managed to not get slaughtered at Ostagar. Beau and Carver had been at Ostagar as well, both serving for the king, though Beau had never seen Aveline prior to their chance, rushed meeting.

After the mercy kill, Beau had worried for Aveline, her unlikely friend. After easing Wesley, her husband, into what was definitely a preferable death, Aveline had stayed with them. Throughout everything, she had been with them, saying 'where else am I to go?' She had had a hard time in Kirkwall, attempting to the new life of being a worthless refugee on top of dealing with her loss, and then factoring in trying to pull her own as not to be a burden on the Hawke's. When she had been presented with an opportunity to join the guard, she had grabbed it with both hands. It had been good to see Aveline with a purpose again. That and Gamlen's house had been quite crowded with five adults and one large dog.

So she had paid Aveline a visit in the barracks and left feeling both pleased and miffed. She had found work but she had also been abruptly dismissed by her friend. From what Aveline had had to say, there were some issues with gangs thieving and causing general mayhem in Hightown, mainly at night. If someone were to deal with the problem, they would find themselves rewarded for it. Not to mention whatever could be scavenged from the thugs would not be missed and could be sold.

It had seemed suspicious that Aveline would drop this information when it was clearly a matter for the guards but when Beau had said as much, Aveline had given her a look and said: "There is coin to be made here Hawke, and I know you're looking to make some and besides that, the captain of the guard is worthless and refuses to 'waste' his time on this."

From that, Beau gathered that Aveline had tried broaching this topic with said captain of the guard –Jevin- and gotten blown off. She had then gotten the details, aggravated Aveline for a brief while or two just for the amusement of it, and then played the waiting game until nightfall. She had spent her night in Hightown, clearing out those imbeciles. They had had loot and some coin, all in all, not a bad night's work, even with the minor wound she should eventually attend too.

She was beginning to doze, right there on the floor alongside Loghain who had lain back down in a more comfortable, less pillow like position. It seemed like she had just closed her eyes when she heard arguing, blearily popping open a lid. Mother and Gamlen were having their weekly go round, with Bethany trying to play peacekeeper.

"All I'm saying Leandra, is that maybe you could help out a bit. You know, maybe buy some food or-"

Leandra was staring at her brother out of disbelieving, wide eyes; ugly splotches of red appearing high on her cheeks. "You sold my children into servitude for a year and now you're asking me to pay rent?" She demanded shrilly.

Beau personally would have went with the obvious: Leandra kept the damn hovel as clean as it could be and cleaning up after Gamlen was no picnic. She also did all the cooking and washing, her hands raw and red from the horrid lye soap they were relatively lucky to have.

"Now Lele, no need to ah, get tetchy." Gamlen said hesitantly, already rethinking this. "All I'm saying is that I can't support-"

"Support?" Leandra interrupted again, anger changing her voice from shrill to an almost growl. "My _daughters_ support us all! Isabeau spends more time trying to bring in coin then even you at the gambling tables and whorehouses!"

"Speaking of," Beau spoke up from her spot on the floor, reaching down for her coin purse at her waist. She held it up, shaking it, letting them all hear the jingling of the coins and smiled faintly when Bethany moved to silently take it. She didn't look at Bethie because she knew she'd be getting a stern look for exacerbating the situation but… she didn't want to forget. She kept two pouches, one for the house, and one for the expedition. She had divvied the monies she had made from last night into the pouches, dividing evenly between the two separate funds. It meant not reaching her goal of fifty gold as soon as possible, but she wasn't going to let her family starve either.

That was not the thing to do in front of Gamlen, who was now turning a brilliant shade of red as he watched Leandra accept the pouch and turn out a piece of gold and several silver pieces into her palm before quickly shoving it all back into the pouch. He knew that would buy the bread and some cheap vegetables, which they would all eat, and he was feeling a curious mixture of shame and anger. "This is _my _house and if it weren't for me, you and your girls would have been on the first ship out of here!"

"We wouldn't be a burden on your… hospitality if you hadn't lost our home!" And finally, they had reached the meat and potatoes.

Gamlen scoffed, this was nothing he hadn't already heard before.

"I can't believe mother left me with nothing." Leandra said in a sad whisper, the anger fading.

"Well what did you expect? You ran off to Ferelden with your apostate mage! You don't get to stay the favorite, and in the will, when you throw away your family and their name for someone like _that_!"

Bethany made a horrible rasping noise in the back of her throat while Isabeau pulled herself to her feet, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"My children were in servitude… servitude for a year! They should be nobility, Gamlen!"

His scowl only deepened.


	3. A Grey Warden

**3: A Grey Warden**

"**So** we're going to break into the cellar of mother's old family home and…"

"Get the will."

"You really think we're going to be able to get in and out without anyone noticing?" All Bethany could do was stare at her sister, wondering if she had gone mad.

"Bethie," Beau said with more patience than she felt, busy sorting through the various papers –mostly letters claiming coin was owed- and other junk on Gamlen's desk. She was looking for the letter he had told her about. "We'll probably run into a trap or two, it won't be such a big deal. Besides, it's not the getting in part I'd worry about, it's Darktown, nobody is going to care. It's the being inside and setting off a trap or running into guards that you should be concerned with."

Bethany's fingers convulsed and she briefly imagined wrapping them around her sister's neck.

Gamlen hadn't actually said that mother had been mentioned in the will, one way or another, but they all knew from his actions and general unease with the topic that something had been said, something he didn't care for anyone to know. With that in mind, along with Bethany confiding several tidbits of information to her, she had made the decision to break in. First and foremost, mother had expressed that she wished she had died with Carver, which had cut Beau deeper than she would ever let any of them know. Secondly, Bethany had said that Gamlen had once told her the house was now owned by slavers, slavers he had lost a game of dice too. Third, mother had given Bethany an old key to the house, and the cellar was accessible via the sewers.

That had all been yesterday, and it seemed like fate was just lining up the dice for her, waiting for her to roll. She had slept on it and with a poultice on her side to take care of any infection, and woke up with her mind made.

Bethany was almost regretting telling her impetuous sister all that. She wasn't afraid of the breaking and entering part, not with so much at stake. It was the getting caught and either being killed or handed over to the templars that had her worried. She was just as desperate as Beau to see their grandparents will, the will Gamlen had said left him everything, including the house, but not desperate enough to risk their necks like this.

It had been when mother asked to see the will, that's when Gamlen had gotten shiftier, if it were even possible. After being prodded, he had finally admitted to leaving it behind at the mansion as he hadn't seen anymore use for it. Typical Gamlen and also very convenient for him. The prat.

"Ha! Found it!" Beau announced triumphantly, followed by a frustrated growl. "He opened it."

"You really aren't surprised, are you?" Bethany clucked her tongue chidingly. "He was probably checking it for coin, or information, or just because it's Gamlen and he's a sod."

"Probably, to all accounts, the old geezer." Beau read the note quickly, frowning slightly. "Varric wants us to meet him at the Hanged Man." She said finally, forehead wrinkling as she reread it. "I really hope he doesn't expect us to have all that coin yet, it's only been a week."

* * *

"**You're** in luck Beau," Varric said when his new business partner arrived, smiling up at her and Bethany from his place at his table. Before him lay maps, open ledgers, and a tankard. "Why don't you two sit down? You humans are too damn tall."

Exchanging looks, Bethany and Beau sat down, both waving away his offers of a drink. Beau took the lead, watching as began putting away some of his things. "So Varric, how am I in luck?"

The grin on his face only broadened. "You sure you won't have a pint? It's hard to trust someone who won't have a drink with you, more so when it's your partner."

Bethany had been watching Varric openly, a smile curving the corners of her lips. "You know what? I think I would like a pint."

"Thatta girl."

Beau once more exerted patience she didn't know she possessed as a drink for Bethany and a refill for Varric were called for and then served, waving off another offer of one for herself. She settled her butt in one of the chairs and waited, trying not to show her irritation because Varric was getting amusement from the situation. "Varric?"

"Yes, my dearest Isabeau?" He peered over the rim of his mug at her, eyes twinkling with good-natured albeit mischievous humor.

"You sent a letter asking to see me and then lure me in with a 'you're in luck' remark. But now you're just purposely keeping me in suspense." It was hard to keep the accusing note out of her tone, especially when his smile widened.

"It's what I do."

"Which is exactly?"

"I am a storyteller, amongst other things." He bowed teasingly at her while still in his chair.

"If by storyteller you mean 'bullshitter' of the highest degree…" She shot back, smiling without even realizing it. "Now honestly, what did you want to see us about?"

Bethany had been watching the two go back and forth with an amused grin on her face. It was plain to her that Isabeau was trying to maintain a wariness of Varric but it was a bit hard not to relax and have fun around the dwarf. Not that she would ever blame her sister for being suspicious of others and their motives. After the events of Ostagar –which Bethany was sure Beau would never ever talk about- as well as their not so welcoming reception and first year in Kirkwall, she figured being suspicious was only to be expected if not considered a survival tool.

She gave her attention back to the conversation when she realized they were both staring at her with identical arched eyebrows and hid a smile. Apparently she had missed something while lost in her musings and she idly wondered how long it had taken them to realize she had stopped paying attention.

"Your good luck happens to be at the expense of my brother's misfortune." Varric said as he moved from his chair and over to the fireplace, beginning to pace before it. His amused tone was at odds with the serious expression on his face as he glanced at the sisters. Bethany was finally paying attention and Beau was staring at the table. "We need to find a way into the Deep Roads."

Isabeau snorted as if to 'is that all'? "So is that what's taking him so long? He's not just gathering supplies and a team but also trying to find passage down?"

Varric nodded, bestowing her with one of his half smirks that the girls were beginning to learn were his way of smiling. He grinned, but smiles were rare. "Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we're down there, but we need a good entrance."

"Do we ever have a bad entrance?" Beau joked, ignoring Bethany's resigned sigh. "To be honest, and serious, with you Varric, I've fought darkspawn but I've never been to the Deep Roads." For which she was eternally grateful and she would admit, the looming prospect of venturing down to said roads tended to send shivers down her spine.

"Fortunately for us, I've received some new information." He informed them, taking note of both the pleased and yet green expression on Beau's face. "So this problem _might_ be solved." He stressed might, not wanting to get their hopes up too high, just in case. He could already see Beau poking around for an entrance to the dangerous Deep Roads, whether she wanted to go down there or not, just because she needed the coin. That would make for a sad, desperate story. "There's a Grey Warden in the city." He paused while looks of understanding and appreciation appeared on both girls. "If anyone knows how to get down there, it'll be him."

"Problem solved." Beau slapped a hand on the table with a pleased smile, having had a brief impression that she and Bethany would somehow have to manage to find a Deep Road entrance and knowing that wouldn't have gone over all. She'd manage to find a hole that'd drop her in Orlais knowing her luck. "We'll just ask him nicely if he'll tell us the way to Hell."

"Now Isabeau," Bethany wagged a stern finger at her sister, ignoring Varric's amused chuckles. As if Beau needed encouragement! "We don't want any trouble with the Grey Wardens, do we?"

"Um, no, because they would kick our arses."

"Well, let's look at our options first," the dwarf interrupted. "I'd rather not go up against a Warden if it's all the same."

"Fair enough Varric, so what do we know about this Warden?"

"Are you sure you won't have a drink, Isabeau?"

"Sure, if you'll stop calling me by my full name."

"Fine, Hawke then."

* * *

**Getting **a lead on the Grey Warden had turned out to be a bit easier than Beau had expected it to be. She had mentioned Fereldan refugees in front of Gamlen and he had immediately launched into a furious diatribe. That diatribe had mostly been about Lirene, a shopkeeper, and how she was attracting more and more riffraff into Lowtown with her charity giving. Uncle Gamlen could be so helpful at times, Maker bless him.

Neither Beau nor Bethie had been in this shop before, they hadn't realized that there was a place to go for help. Though, in retrospect, they had gotten on better than most during that first year since they had had a job of sorts and all. When they entered, it was extremely busy.

"Please!" A young girl shouted while trying to elbow her way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the woman in charge. "My mum's in labor, the babe has come early! Can anyone help her?"

Beau watched as a tall woman with dark hair stepped out from behind a counter. Her face was hard but her eyes were kind, a bit stern as well as weary, but kind. Automatically she knew that this woman was Lirene.

"Alright Alannah, calm down. I'll send for the healer." Lirene reassured the crying girl as she bent over to place a comforting hand on the child's shoulder. "You go on back to your mother and keep her as comfortable as you can, understand?"

Nodding, the girl turned away. Bethany stepped out of the way to let the girl pass, not about to be trampled again.

Lirene's gaze locked on Beau and she frowned. "We help refugees but those that have homes and jobs… not so much." She said flatly, eyeing their clothing which was a tad bit better than the other's surrounding them. They were both wearing clothing they had acquired during their time with Meeran and in his employ. The clothing was not only practical and sturdier than their others, but it was also in fairly good condition still. "Understand that I can't give priority to people who seem to be getting along better than these poor people."

"We're not here for that kind of assistance." Beau said after a moment, going with tact opposed to her sarcastic and joking manner, much to Bethany's obvious relief.

"Then what are you here for?" Lirene demanded irritably. "I've got enough work to be doing with hardly enough time to be doing it at all. I don't have the time to waste on people who don't need anything!"

"I hear you know where I can find a Ferelden Grey Warden."

Lirene didn't even bat an eyelash. "Yeah sure, in Ferelden, on the throne. Both their Majesties are the only Ferelden Grey Wardens that I know of. The Blights over, what do you need with a Warden anyhow?"

"The healer was one of them once, wasn't he? A middle-aged woman interrupted, having obviously been listening in on the conversation, such as it was. "He was a Warden, yes?"

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Lirene rolled her eyes heavenward and faced the woman. "Well he's not now and Maker knows he has enough on his hands without answering foolish questions for foolish people."

"I don't want to bother him," Beau said gently, amending that mentally in her head with a 'much'. "I just need to speak with him."

"You're protecting him." Bethany observed, arching an eyebrow when Lirene's figurative feathers seemed ruffled. "Why?"

"Don't be daft, girl." The exasperation was in full force at this point and Lirene's mouth curved downward into a frown. "You've seen what our people suffer here in Kirkwall. They have no jobs, no homes, and no prospects for either. Most can barely buy bread, let alone medicines. This healer serves them without thought for coin. He's closed their wounds, ended the sick, and delivered their children and has asked for nothing."

Isabeau was silent for a moment, contemplating that. "And yet he needs to hide?"

"He's a good man, I won't lose him to those damned templars."

And it all made sense. "He's a mage."

"Do you honestly think I would stick my neck out for some idiotic fool who uses hensbane and leeches?" Lirene sounded offended.

Stepping forward, Bethany held out her hand. "Mistress, we would never turn someone over to the templars." She said reassuringly, a small wisp of light flaring for a moment over her palm. "Never."

"He doesn't want to be locked away in the Gallows for using the gifts the Maker gave him, is that so wrong?"

"No."

"This man sounds too good to be true," Beau chuckled, attempting to lighten the moment. It seemed that Bethany's small display had somehow wormed them into Lirene's good graces as she was no longer eyeing them suspiciously. "If he has pretty eyes and a killer smile, I might consider marrying him." She ignored it when Bethany cringed.

Lirene began laughing, not the reaction Bethany had been expecting. "Well, he's definitely got pretty eyes but I don't know about the smile. I've never seen him smile."

"Well that's a damn shame, everyone should try it at least once."

"Too true, but then again, what's there for most to smile about?"

"Being alive is a good place to start."

Lirene nodded and fell silent for a moment, apparently thinking it over. "To find the healer, look for the lit lantern."

* * *

"**Lit** lantern, you know, I hate riddles."

"It's in Darktown Isabeau."

"Well that certainly isn't helpful, Bethie."

"Beau, we can't go there by ourselves, it's not safe."

Beau really wasn't listening, busy mulling over Lirene's words. Considering Lirene had asked them to deliver a message to this Grey Warden healer –Anders-, she could have been just a bit more explicit about his location. Especially since the message was: Alannah's mother is in labor, come quick.

"Isabeau!"

"What, Bethie?"

Bethany was more than tempted to whack her sister across the top of the head with her staff, frowning with annoyance. "We are not going to Darktown by ourselves."

"It's not like I've never been there before." She had, several times in fact, on merc business for Meeran. "If it's such a big deal, we'll stop by the Hanged Man and ask Varric if he wants to come along. He did say he'd help out on jobs, and this one is for the expedition anyway."

"Hmm…"

"And we could also scout the entrance to mother's old home."

Knowing she had just been tossed a lure, Bethany played fish and swallowed it whole, knowing just what Beau was doing. "Fine then, if we must."

"We must." Victory achieved.

* * *

"**Get** off me," Beau snapped, trying to shrug away the particularly annoying older man she had picked up on her way through Darktown. Another Ferelden refugee, like her, though unlike her, he was annoying. And persistent. Persistently annoying.

Finding the healer had been every bit as irritating as she had expected it to be. Darktown was not her favorite place in Kirkwall, and there was a day that went by that she didn't thank the Masker her family hadn't wound up here.

"We know what happens to mages in this town," The man snarled, tightening his grip on her shoulder. He had overheard her and her companions discussing 'look for the lit lantern', seen the weapons neither the dwarf or taller woman were bothering to hide and did not like the conclusion his mind had drawn for him. "And it going to happen to him, hear me woman?"

"That's right, you're not touching 'im!" Another refugee who had followed the group when beckoned by his mates shouted.

Fully prepared to drive a dagger through this fool's face, Isabeau whirled around, Bethany and Varric flanking her. She hesitated when she realized there was a bit of a crowd forming, inwardly heaving a sigh. "Look, we're Fereldans, same as you and just like you we're also trying to stay out of the templars sight."

"Fereldan? But you, your clothes-"

"Why does it always come back to the damn clothes?"

Varric chuckled. "They are fairly nice clothes, Hawke. Green is definitely your color."

"Oh shut up, Varric."

While the two bantered, Bethany had been keeping her eye on the men, who seemed a bit taken aback by Varric and Beau, not that she blamed them. The pair seemed to enjoy egging each other on. What Bethany didn't know was that both Varric and her sister were very much aware of the refugees still standing there and were waiting for some sort of indication that they wereabout to be attacked. They were hoping their odd exchange, while amusing to them, would serve as either a distraction or a deterrent.

Beau was confident enough in her abilities to take on a handful of refugees (her confidence bolstered by the fact that Bethany was no slouch in the combat magic department and she got the feeling Varric wasn't exactly a push-over either) she wasn't aiming to have a fight in Darktown, especially outside the Grey Warden's door. That and it did seem wrong to attack these men. They were stupid yes, not necessarily dangerous. "Right, well…" She looked at the man who had instigated all of this.

"Maker bless king Alistair and his lovely queen!" He proclaimed before making a rather hasty departure, his friends following him reluctantly.

Bethany let out the breath she had been holding.

"Now that that's over, shall we continue?"

"One of these days, Beau…"

"Now now ladies," Varric interrupted what he was sure would be an amusing little tiff between the sisters. "You should know that quarrelling over me won't do you any good, I'm a one woman man."

They both stared down at him with almost identical smiles and said together: "Bianca."

"Yes, Bianca." He reached back to fondly caress the crossbow. "Isn't that right, baby?"

"That is…"

"…mildly disturbing."


	4. Finding the Lit Lantern

**4: Finding the Lit Lantern**

The Grey Warden lived in what was part clinic, part home and more clinic then home but there were unmistakable signs that someone lived as well as worked here. Like the rest of Darktown, the 'house' was nothing more than the usual dank walls and damp ceilings. Darktown had originally been built in the undergrounds and sewers of Kirkwall. It was an underworld filled with disease, crime, and more people than it could fit even half comfortably.

While the space was not overly large, Beau would admit to being surprised that it looked like only the Grey Warden lived here when the sparse rooms would have easily held a small family. But then again… he was not only a Grey Warden but an apostate; she could see that while the poor and ill would want his healing they would not be so keen on living with him. For fear of when the templars inevitably came knocking or fear of the odds of him becoming an abomination, neither that bright a prospect.

At the far end of the room was a table, surrounded by three adults, with a boy lying on top of it. It was easy to determine which one was the man they were seeking. He had a blue-white light streaming from his outstretched palms, the aimed at and entering the boy's chest.

Isabeau studied him critically; unable to really make out his features or honestly determine his build beneath the rather… interesting attire he wore. His head was bent forward in concentration and she could make out dirty blonde hair, the top of it pulled back into a short ponytail.

Sparing a glance at her sister, Beau was somehow not surprised to see Bethany's brow furrowed in concentration as she watched the healer at work, most likely taking mental notes. When the mage pulled back, she reacted instinctively and withdrew a curved dagger from its sheath, eyeballing the light coming from his palms as it condensed from streams into pulsating orbs.

Varric wasn't quite as jumpy as she was and reached out to gesture her to remain still.

As if he was drawing whatever was wrong with the boy into himself, the mage reeled backward just as the boy sat up, turning to brace himself against the wall.

Waiting until the man that was most likely the child's father was finished with the prostrate mage, Beau stepped out of the woman's way as she guided the boy towards the door, eyes on the boy himself. What had been wrong with him she did not know but he certainly looked right as rain now. When the man left to join his family, she approached the Grey Warden.

Varric was the first to spot the change in the mage, from how his posture went from weary to alert in almost no time at all. "Hawke…" His warning came just in time as the Warden turned around, a staff suddenly in his hand.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation!" He declared, brandishing the staff in one hand, holding the other hand palm forward at them. "Why do you threaten it?"

For the third time in her life, Beau was at a loss for words and she generally did not count the first two times. All she could do was gawk at him, and his hair. It looked like he had cut it himself and she knew her mother would refer to it as a hack job. He was in need of a shave and looked both tired and alert at the same time. She met his, Anders was what Lirene had said, eyes and noted that they were a warm brown, a familiar brown. He seemed to be trying to place her as well because she could have sworn she seen a hint of recognition on his face.

When Bethany nudged her, she remembered what they were here for and snapped out of her thoughts, wondering what the hell that had been about. Her cheeks tinged pink and in her haste to cover her embarrassment, she let loose with one of her sarcastic quips. "A Grey Warden healer? I wasn't aware that taint and death went hand in hand with healing and salvation. I was under the impression it was quite the opposite."

All Bethany could think was: she's going to get us killed.

At the mention of Grey Warden, Anders lowered his staff and hand though his posture remained tense. The weariness in his eyes was replaced by momentary annoyance. "Are you here on the Warden's behalf? Because if you're here to take me back I'm not going, those bastards made me get rid of my cat."

Of all the things he could have said that was not one of them anyone had expected and Bethany was the first to regain use of her tongue. "Your… cat?"

"Poor Ser Pounce-A-Lot," Anders nodded, looking a little sad. "He hated the Deep Roads."

"Ser Pounce-A-Lot?"Varric was suppressing a snigger, ignoring the look Bethany was giving him. "What kind of name is that? No actually, forget that, who the hell takes a cat into the Deep Roads?"

"Me." Anders sounded amused, a little bit. This apparently wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. "He was a gift, a noble beast."

Isabeau had come to the conclusion that while ragged in a ragged, odd sort of way, this Warden seemed to be a few silvers short.

"He almost got ripped in half by a genlock once," He reminisced. "He swatted the buggar on the nose, drew blood too."

"And they made you get rid of this heroic, deadly beast?" Beau asked dryly.

"Yes, they said he made me 'too soft'. I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine."

The soft cough from Varric reminded her that she needed to get this conversation moving, and preferably not in the direction it was currently heading. "I want to buy information off of you."

"Information of what kind?" He demanded suspiciously, the hostility returning.

"We're planning an expedition to the Deep Roads, and we'll pay you for directions down."

"Right… because obviously, I'm all about money. I heal people for free, what does that tell you?"

"That you're hiding from templars and charging would get you turned in." Varric answered knowingly, smiling when the mage looked down at him.

"That too." Anders sighed and shook his head. "I would die a happy man if I never think about the Deep Roads again. You can't even begin to imagine what I've gone through to get here. I'm not interested in…" He trailed off, a speculative expression covering his face as he stared over their heads, rethinking what he had been about to say. "Although…"

"I do not like the sound of that…"

"A favor for a favor, does that sound like a fair deal?"

"Depending on what the favor is." Beau said grudgingly. "We're not actually asking you to literally show us how to get into the Deep Roads, a map will do."

"You want a map than you'll help me."

She had seen him look hostile, alert, tired, somewhat amused, a bit sad and now shrewd and she hadn't even met him but moments ago. Trying to figure him out was a bit like trying to get Gamlen to not be a lazy snark, hard. "Be more specific. I don't do anything involving children or animals."

"And this is a beardless dwarf, not a child." Bethany added in an uncharacteristic display of the same brand of humor she usually scolded Beau for, unable to resist. She giggled despite herself when she felt Varric nudging her from behind.

"Play nice, Sunshine."

Anders was watching them, waiting patiently until they had returned their attention back to him. "I have a Warden map of the depths in this area, but there's a price."

"Always is." Varric sighed.

"I came here, to Kirkwall, to help a friend, a mage. He is a prisoner in the Gallows."

Bethany winced at the mention of the mage circle, feeling a new sympathy towards his man and his friend. However, she was beginning to reluctantly see where this was going and wasn't overly pleased with it. "And?" She prompted reluctantly.

"And the templars have learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him to safety and you shall have your maps."

This had to be the most asinine thing Beau had ever even considered doing. The whole point of this Deep Roads expedition, of coming to this Warden, was to find a way to keep out of the templars vision, not sneak apostates past them. "I might just take my chances with the darkspawn. I do not relish the idea of fighting templars."

"If we have to fight templars it is because they believe that anyone who helps a mage is deserving of death."

"As just as your cause is," Bethany said softly. "I don't want to give the templars another reason to hunt us."

Which was pretty much what Beau had been thinking herself. "Varric, what say you?"

"We need the maps, Hawke. Sunshine doesn't have to be a part of this rescue mission. In fact, it'd probably be safer if she wasn't."

"I'm not afraid!"

"Nobody said you were but you're not stupid either. Didn't you just say you didn't want to give the templars anymore cause to hunt you?" He pointed out reasonably. He knew he had her when she fell silent.

"These are my terms." The Warden announced firmly. "Meet me at the Chantry tonight, towards midnight. I have sent word to Karl to be there. Maker willing, we will all leave free men."

* * *

"**How** can you be so calm about this?" Bethany demanded, watching crossly as Isabeau studied the old tunnel entrance that allegedly would take them to mother's old home. After Beau had agreed to the rogue Warden's terms they had left his clinic. Bethany had thought Beau might want to go home to rest before the rescue attempt but her sister had had other ideas. Other ideas being this, scouting out a way inside the old ancestral place.

"Calm about what, Bethie? I did promise we'd have a look, didn't I?" Beau replied, purposefully misunderstanding the question. "I don't think we'll have too much problem getting in. The lock is rusted over but nothing we can't get-"

"You're really going to do this? Without me?"

Unable to pretend she had no idea what Bethie was talking about any longer, Beau slowly turned around and walked towards her sister, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "Yes." She said evenly, not even bothering to try to soften it. "I know you're capable of doing this, but I am not about to lose you to the templars. If we get caught it would be better for you to not be caught with us. You will stay home tonight."

"And what will I tell mother?"

"Definitely not the truth!"

"I can be of service with that." Varric said, bowing to them both mockingly when they turned to him. He was aware that they were still getting used to his presence and had forgotten about him. Apparently it had always been just them or they hadn't had many dealings with people who weren't higher than their waists.

"How?"

"Hawke can come to the Hanged Man with me. Simply tell your mother the truth, Sunshine. Hawke is playing cards and drinking ale with the most handsome dwarf in Kirkwall."

Both Hawke sisters snorted at that.

* * *

"**If** you've come back just to tell me no, I would have taken the hint when you didn't show."

"You're the man from the marketplace who bowled me over."

Anders turned to study the woman, finally nodding. "Yes, I thought I recognized you." He had been in the process of packing up for the day. He doubted there would be too many more people showing up and he needed time to prepare for tonight's excursions. "So if you're not here about tonight, then…?"

She held out a scrap out paper, unsure of what to say. Beau had nearly forgotten about the child's pregnant mother, much to her shame. "Lirene sent a message for you."

He took it, read it, and scowled at her. "You didn't think this held precedence over your maps?"

"I forgot." It was the truth, and a sorry one at that, but it was all she had. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, there's no point now." He sighed, crumpling the paper in his fist and looking around. "I suppose I'll have to go to her…" Anders looked around, searching for something and finally walked away from her.

Beau watched as he retrieved a satchel and began putting supplies in it. "Do you need help?" She asked, shocked that she had offered and didn't expect anything in return. She really must've been feeling guilty. When he stopped what he was doing to just stare at her, she felt self-conscious, also something not normal.

"Do you have any experience as a midwife?" He sounded like he didn't expect much and was just being polite.

"I've birthed foals in the army."

"Not quite the same but close enough," Now he was outright amused and offered her a half-smile. "You're hired."

"Great, how much are you paying me?"

"By you're hired, what I meant was: 'do this and I'll forgive you for forgetting about this poor woman and her potential death'."

Beau started laughing. Even if he was dragging her into what was likely to be a death trap, at least he had a sense of humor.

* * *

"**So** explain to me, Varric, just why are you going down into the Deep Roads?" Isabeau asked curiously, staring at him over the table. She had gotten to the Hanged Man not long ago after checking in to make sure Bethany had made it home alright.

Bethany had but she had not been pleased with the fact that Beau's 'go ahead, I'm right behind you guys' had actually turned out to be a four hour 'right behind you' and not the minutes she had anticipated. She had also not been impressed with Beau going off to help the Warden deliver a baby ("you know nothing about human babies, you've delivered a few horses, Beau!"). Her unhappiness compounded when she was told she wouldn't be joining Beau at the Hanged Man and but there had also been relief, relief at knowing she wouldn't have to go tonight to the Chantry. "I've gotten the impression that you and Bartrand are… not close."

"Bartrand is a bastard." Varric said cheerfully, raising his tankard to her in a salute before taking a long swallow. "But he is the head of the family, and my brother as reluctant as I am to admit it. As for the Deep Roads, I can't just let the head of the family wander down there alone. I have more than just a passing interest in this expedition: money is always good and I really do not want to be head of family, so I need to make sure Bartrand lives. Do you have any idea of the obligations I would be tied with if he died?"

"That would be a tragedy." She snorted, drinking her own ale slowly. The last thing she needed was to go into the Chantry to collect an apostate mage while drunk. That and given the late hour and how quickly midnight was arriving, there just wasn't time to get properly smashed, not without slamming down these tankards and that would only wind up in her hurling all over her armor. "Tell me something?"

"Hmm?"

"Why would you stick your neck out for us? You really don't know all that much about us."

He studied her thoughtfully, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back into his chair. "Sure I do, Hawke. I keep my ear to the ground. I hear things, and about the lovely Hawke sisters, nothing but good."

"If by good you mean 'killing'."

"Surviving." He corrected, hearing the hint of bitterness in her tone. "You're a survivor Hawke, and that is what we're going to need down there."

"You make it sound like we're going to our deaths."

"The Deep Roads are where darkspawn retreat between Blights. Since we just had a Blight, the roads are still somewhat empty. This is a small window of opportunity and our chances of not dying are pretty good."

"I don't like the gamble."

"Life is a gamble my friend."

"You're taking a pretty big one, making us your partners."

"It's all about trust. I'll give you a little if you give me a little."

That brought a smile to her face. "You got me there, Varric."

"I knew I would." He drained what was left of his ale before grinning impishly. "Now, tell me… what on earth did you remain in Darktown for? Just to pass on a message? That took an awfully long time, wouldn't you say?" The inspirational moment was over and now he was onto harassing her. She had said something about letting the Warden know about a pregnant woman gone into labor, sent them on ahead, and then didn't show back up for four or so hours. There was a story there.

Beau stared at him, wondering how much to tell him, if anything. She knew she was in for teasing either way and sighed, shaking her head. "If you really must know, I went with him to help with the baby."

"Wait, wait, wait… _you_ helped deliver an infant?" The delight was obvious in Varric's tone and his eyes began sparkling. "Really? Try not to take this wrong, Hawke, but I have a hard time seeing you manage the… ah, gentleness, involved with such a task."

"Anders did the actual… work part of it, I was playing assistant."

"And?"

"And what?"

"How'd it go?"

"It was gross to be honest."

Varric was silent for a moment, considering that before finally nodding. It was out of mind as he seized on something else. "Anders is it?"

Beau groaned and dropped her head on the table.


	5. Spirit of Justice

**5: Spirit of Justice**

"**I **like the Chantry."

Isabeau was getting used to Varric saying odd things at random times; it was just one of his quirks. "Not me, it reminds me of a grandmother's house."

"A grandmother who happens to be married to the Maker?"

"Oddly enough, yes." Beau still didn't feel right about leaving Bethany to home and knew it wasn't because she overly missed her sister but because it felt odd not to have Bethany there watching her back. She had been tempted to bring Loghain along but at the same time the last thing she needed was her hyperactive Mabari running rampant throughout the Chantry. But then again… considering what they were about to do, maybe it wouldn't have made much of a difference.

Falling into silence, Isabeau and Varric walked up the stairs to the Chantry, Varric breaking the silence only to murmur a caution that even the doorsteps to the Maker's house were not safe from the thieves that plagued Hightown. She was very glad for her daggers, having been uncertain about bringing them. That had been a moment of wishful thinking before reality smacked her upside the head with a 'don't be daft'. Going to the market in Lowtown during the day was hardly safe, why would Hightown at night be any better?

She spotted the Grey Warden, Anders, leaning against a pillar, almost out of sight and had the feeling that he had seen them first and it was the only reason he was allowing them to see him at all. Trying not to look guilty, she approached him, stepping into the shadows.

"I wasn't sure you were coming." He said by way of greeting. "You left earlier looking a bit ill."

"I said I was."

"Ill huh?" Varric prompted, glancing up at her with a cocked smirk. "Birthing not to your tastes, Hawke?"

"Give it a rest or I'll kick you down the stairs."

He mimed sealing his lips though the amusement never left his eyes.

To Anders: "I said I was."

He glanced towards the Chantry doors. "I saw Karl go inside not too long ago, he was alone. No templars so far." He then looked over his shoulder at her. "Are you ready?"

Beau glanced down at Varric who nodded before nodding herself. "Yes." She licked her dry lips, sincerely hoping this wasn't going to come back and bite her, or more importantly Bethany, in the backside down the road. "Let's do this fast." Hesitantly, she pushed open the doors and held them open while her companions slipped inside. After a quick look around just to be safe, she followed.

"I'll do the talking, you two just watch for templars." Anders said in hushed whispers, his head twisting so fast on his neck that Beau was expecting it to fall off.

She had been in the Chantry several times with her mother and she would openly admit to everyone but her mother that she was not very comfortable inside here. She did not like the giant statue of Andraste, it creeped her out instead of inspiring reverence or awe. The sisters were also fairly odd. Some of them were nice and sweet, others seemed to suffer from dementia, and others were self-righteous and condescending.

The heavy scent of incense was almost overpowering and it made her want to close her eyes and grab forty winks but she had a feeling the mage would likely set her on fire if she did. Up a short flight of stairs, then a turn and there was Karl. Or at least, she was assuming this was Karl. His back was to them and he was staring into a dying fire but she recognized his robes as those issued by the Circle. She and Varric came to a halt when Anders gestured for them too, Varric frowning up at her. She nodded her agreement to his silent words, something seemed wrong about this.

"Anders, I know you too well." Karl said without turning around.

It registered that Karl sounded odd, he sounded mechanical. Beau was already unsheathing her daggers, catching Varric preparing Bianca from the corner of her eye.

"I knew you would never give up."

Ander's posture was both tense and nervous as he shifted from one foot to the other. "Karl? What's wrong? Why are you talking-" The words died on his tongue when his friend turned around, his eyes automatically narrowing in on the brand that stood lividly out on Karl's forehead. "Oh no."

"I was too rebellious. Like you, Anders." Karl continued in his monotone, staring at Anders emotionlessly. "The templars knew I had to be… made an example of."

"No! Karl…"

"How else will mages ever master themselves? You'll understand, Anders."

"Uh, Anders?" Beau called over her shoulder, now standing with her back to the two mages, watching as templars approached.

"Blondie, we have a slight templar problem."

Slowly, Anders turned, his shoulders slumping in sorrow.

"This is the apostate." Karl said, needlessly gesturing at Anders.

Isabeau and Varric both almost stepped right back into the templars when Anders suddenly went from sad and almost resigned to raging. His brown eyes filmed completely over with a crackling blue that reminded Beau of lightening, and then he dropped to his knees, face in his hands. Nobody moved, all eyes focused on him.

"What the bloody hell is he doing?" Beau demanded when the blue light that had obscured Ander's eyes literally began seeping from his body, crackling and flame-like. Her first thought was that he had been possessed and she was ready to let the templars have him.

"Good question, Hawke. Why don't you go ask him?" Varric was busy putting space between him, the templars, and the mages. He could fight in close quarters but he was better from a distance. Bianca was equipped with a bayonet but he preferred to not risk damaging her.

Anders pushed himself to his feet quickly, looking around at the assembled templars. When he spoke, it wasn't in his normal voice but a deeper, darker one that had an edge to it Beau could not place. "You will never take another mage as you took him!"

And the fight was on.

* * *

"**You** alive, Hawke?"

"Maker yes… and I don't like it." She groaned from her place on the floor, staring up at the Chantry ceiling. Templars were much harder to put down then she had thought, and she hadn't walked away unscathed. The templars hadn't walked away at all and Beau idly wondered if the Maker was going to count this against her. One hand moved to clutch her throbbing side, wondering what it was with people and getting her there, it was the same spot she had been hit before. Slowly, she sat up and looked around. "We just killed a bunch of templars, Varric."

"I know." He nodded, not seeming as bothered about it as she was. "And in the Chantry too."

She suspected he added that just to make her stomach flip flop even harder. Scowling, Beau pushed herself to her feet before stooping back over to retrieve her daggers, ignoring the blood on the blades as she sheathed them. There was the pressing matter of the gash on her side and Maker did it hurt. There was also the whole Anders going blue and crazy thing to wonder about as well, and that actually seemed a bit more important than her bleeding out problem. Frowning, she faced him.

The last of the odd blue was fading from Anders eyes and behind him, Karl was looking confused, which from her understanding was not something a tranquil was supposed to feel, let alone look. "I-" He began slowly, frowning. "Anders, what did you do?"

"Yeah Blondie," Varric drawled, Bianca safely on his back once more. "What _did _ you do?"

Anders briefly met Isabeau's questioning gaze before turning to Karl.

"It's like… you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had forgotten what that feels like."

"But you're tranquil." Beau blurted out.

"Way to go on the subtlety, Hawke."

Scowling down at Varric, she rolled her eyes. "What I mean is that the tranquil are supposed to be cut off from the Fade, right? Forever?"

Karl nodded at her. "You forget your old life when you're tranquil. Things do not seem very important… But… it's like the Fade itself is inside Anders." His tone went from awed to pleading. "Please, kill me."

"Wha- what?"

Anders closed his eyes.

"Kill me before I forget again, Anders." Karl pleaded, reaching out desperately for his friend. "I don't know how you brought it back, but it's fading already."

"Karl, no…" Anders shook his head, his voice breaking.

Tentatively, Isabeau placed a hand on Ander's shoulder, hoping he didn't blow her up or something for the gesture. She wasn't biased against mages, she understood their plight, but at the same time when a man began seeping a crackling blue light from his very pores, caution was a must. "My sister says being tranquil is a fate worse than death." She said quietly.

"It is." He whispered, finally meeting Karl's stare.

"I would rather die a free mage then a templar puppet." Karl said determinedly, though a hint of the monotone was creeping into his voice, even as he struggled against it.

Varric tugged Beau back as Anders procured a dagger of his own from his robes, shaking his head when she glanced down at him. This was something they were trespassing on, something they probably shouldn't be witnessing.

"Karl… I'm sorry…"

They both closed their eyes.

* * *

"**Hold** still, Beau."

It was a mark of how serious Varric actually when that he used her preferred nickname instead of her surname or much hated full name. Varric had made it quite clear that he did not like Beau, so the fact that he was using it caused Isabeau to stop thrashing and instead settle for biting down on her lower lip to keep from screaming.

Anders had walked out of the Chantry without looking back, leaving Beau and Varric to stare at each other, wondering what had just happened. When they had gotten outside, he had been waiting, mumbling something about returning to his clinic before hurrying down the stairs and disappearing into the night.

As tempting as following him and demanding some answers had been, Beau hadn't been able to take more than a few steps forward before clutching her side and toppling. If not for Varric, probably would have gone flying down the Chantry steps and broken her neck. While her armor had done a fairly good job of protecting her, the blade had still cut through. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but considering it was very near, if not directly on, the spot she had been sliced not too long ago. More to the point, it was painful and Beau wasn't a big fan of pain.

This as odd given her previous occupation was basically signing up for pain. She had been at Ostagar, along with Carver when king Cailan and his army fell, they had both been soldiers. She had taken an arrow directly to her retreating arse and still bore the scar from that delightful night. Working for Meeran had gotten her several lovely new scars and one nasty bout of the flu. The point was: she wasn't an idiot with her daggers and she had battle scars, but the pain factor… and the near death factor, could never forget that.

With Varric's aid, she had made it to the Hanged Man and was now sprawled out on his table, grateful he had these private rooms because being in this ungainly position in front of the other patrons would have killed what remained of her wounded pride. Not to mention, if she had tried creeping home in this state, there would be some serious explaining to do and she wasn't in the mood to deal with her mother's scolding.

She forced herself to hold still, knowing she couldn't return home until this problem had been dealt with. Leandra was under the impression she had spent her night drinking and playing cards, not getting into fights with the local templars and it was going to stay that way.

"Damn mage could have stuck around a bit longer, he _is _a healer." Varric muttered, his eyes squinted as he focused on the job at hand. "This is a lot harder than you'd think it would be… skin slips all over the place and it-"

"Varric, do you mind?"

"Have another drink, Hawke."

So they were back to Hawke, crisis averted.

* * *

**After** taking several days to recover, and listen to mother's repeated lectures on the dangers of indulging too much and too often, Isabeau was ready to get back into the swing of things and quite frankly, out of the damn house. She had confided to Bethany about what had happened, knowing her sister wouldn't say a word to anyone.

Bethany was much closer to Leandra than Beau was, but she also understood the necessity of not informing their mother of all their comings and goings. If only to keep mother's peace of mind –such as it was- intact. That and it made Beau's life a little easier, mother not knowing what she was getting involved in.

* * *

**Anders** had spent his days tending to patients, working long hours to force aside the thoughts of the incident. When he finally did succumb to sleep, Karl's face haunted his dreams. Tranquil, pleading for death and then receiving that death. Anders hoped that if the fate of being made tranquil was ever forced on him someone would be compassionate enough to end his life, just as he had done for his friend. It would be a mercy killing and he knew Karl had viewed it as such. But for the life of him, he could not stop himself from feeling guilty over the deed.

For him, it was an abnormally slow day, which did not bode well for his peace of mind. Anders had inventoried his supplies several times, tidied up, and gone for three walks about Lowtown. He was not doing a great job of keeping himself busy or occupying his mind.

"Anders?"

Distraction came in the form of the woman, Hawke, he believed her dwarf companion had called her. He knew what was coming, she was going to call him out on being some sort of abomination, and he reluctantly turned to face her. It was no surprise that she was regarding him with suspicion, not that he faulted for it, not after what she had seen. He felt compelled to explain himself. "What you… saw, at the Chantry… with me…"

"What kind of magic was that?"

"It wasn't… magic. Not of the normal variety at any rate." It was either a small mercy that she was assuming magic over abomination or she was the Maker's own fool.

"I gathered that." She was looking around the empty clinic, apparently realizing that he wasn't knee-deep in patients. "Slow day?"

"Very slow, Hawke, was it? That's your name?"

"My surname." She was now walking around the room, not looking either disgusted or impressed with the shabby surroundings. Though why she would be one or the other he had no idea. From his understanding, she lived somewhere in Lowtown, which was maybe one step up from his situation. "Isabeau Hawke. Isabeau to my mother, Beau to my friends, and Hawke to everyone else."

"Hawke." He gathered he was in the 'everyone else' category and perched himself on the edge of a table that served both as his dining space and a surgery table. He didn't bother with asking how she knew his name; she had probably picked it up from someone with a loud mouth. He could recall her using it when they had delivered that baby. "I can explain, that night, and what you saw."

"Could you? Because that would really, really great. After Varric stitched up my side, that was pretty much all I could think of. Not 'oh damn, that templar got me good' but 'what in the name of Andraste did Anders do?'"

As someone who frequently employed sarcasm as a weapon, a defense mechanism, and as a source of self-amusement, he wasn't overly offended. If anything, Anders was more surprised by the templar part. "A templar… got you?" He echoed in confusion though it cleared up when she gestured to her side and it sank in. "Oh Maker, Hawke… I'm sorry, I-"

She held up a hand and he abruptly ceased his apology. "You had your mind elsewhere, Anders. It is understandable. You said you had an explanation?"

"It is… hard to explain." He was trying to keep up with her. She had seemed agitated over the templar thing but now it was as if she had moved right on past it. He watched as she eased herself onto a small stool, looking more hunched than comfortable, at least until she leaned back against the dirty wall. That tempted him to beg her to sit up straight, to not let the dirt; grime and whatever else was there touch her. She didn't look to bothered by it thought, stretching her long legs out in front of herself, her eyes never leaving him.

Knowing Hawke was waiting on him, he took his position back at the table, slouching a bit himself. "In Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade."

"Was this when you were an active Grey Warden?"

He nodded. "Yes. We became friends, Justice and I. He recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day." That she could obviously sympathize with and he could see it in the way her gaze turned thoughtful, encouraged by her nod of understanding.

"This spirit, Justice, is that different from a demon then?"

"Just as there are demons who prey on the deadly sins of mankind: greed, sloth, lust, rage, and so on, there are also the good spirits who embody our virtues. Spirits of compassion, fortitude, and-"

"Justice?"

"Justice." A wan smile spread across his face as he waited for her to realize just where this conversation was heading and for it to crash down on her. If not now, if she couldn't see the path before them, then surely once he had told her she would call him an abomination and attempt striking him down. "They are the Maker's first children and they have all but given up on us."

"And this ties in with your eyes glowing and that light coming from you…?"

It was coming, he could see her piecing the puzzle together, slowly. "To live outside the Fade, he needed a host."

And she suddenly knew, her entire body going tense.

"So I offered to help him. Together we were going to work to bring justice to every child who was ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle, to bring justice to mages who are persecuted simply for being what they are." He paused, allowing her to digest all that.

It took several long moments before she swallowed, sitting up a bit straighter, more alert. There was no hostility in Hawke's posture, she was just… more alert. "I'm guessing there's a 'but' in there somewhere." She finally offered weakly.

His answer was a dry smile. "I guess I had too much anger in me because once he –Justice- was inside, he… changed. We changed."

Another period of silence followed that, both of them just staring at the other. Hawke waiting for the rest of the story whereas Anders was waiting for her to snap out of this acceptance and begin with the condemnation.

"So you have a spirit of Justice living inside of you? In your head? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, that's not what I am saying, it's not like that." Anders wasn't sure how to explain what had happened to him and Justice. "He's gone now, he's simply a part of me. We've… merged together."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"We can't have a conversation together because we're no longer separate entities. His thoughts… are my thoughts."

"So you're Justice and Justice is you?"

"Not even the great scholar could tell you where I begin and he ends."


	6. Walking Bomb

**6: Walking Bomb**

**If** Anders had thought Beau was done with the questions, he was sorely mistaken. She had dropped the topic for the moment and left him to do whatever it was he did when he wasn't swamped with patients and returned home. She had had plenty to think about.

She also was finding that she had plenty to do. Aveline, pleased with her success at dealing with some pesky Hightown bandits, had offered her another job. Another job completely off the books because she was already butting heads and getting into minor trouble with the captain of the guard. Given Beau's occasionally disability to take things seriously, Aveline had stressed how important this was, and that secrecy was a must. She had also stressed that she had to go; Hawke was not to go off by her lonesome. Aveline had to be there to lend credence to this… thing, if it were to be resolved.

But… given that this venture required going to Sundermount… and he was a healer. Beau would admit, if only to herself, she was just curious about the mage in general. Promising Aveline she would meet her first thing in the morning, she headed off to Lowtown. Just to check in.

* * *

**Anders** had spent his time keeping busy with patients and monitoring his meager stores of supplies, knowing he would eventually need to venture out. He usually tried to avoid Lowtown, he didn't want to deal with those who attempted to mug him. The only other reason he ventured through any part of Kirkwall was to either make his way outside the city for herbs and other ingredients he needed for healing medicines, or when he needed to go to market and couldn't find a reliable urchin to do it for him.

But on those occasions he had to go out, which were very few, he did find himself looking for Hawke. Or the dwarf, or other girl, she had been with.

"Alannah, have your mother take this with her next meal." He said, passing a packet to the girl who immediately tucked it against her chest protectively.

"And it'll help my brother?" She asked hesitantly, having watched him grinding the herbs. She was still unsure exactly what they were supposed to do even though he had patiently explained it to her, twice.

"Yes, the medicine will pass to him through your mother's milk." Anders reassured her, reaching out to pat her head. It had been somewhat quiet today, up until Alannah had come running in. His gaze moved past her and to the door, mildly surprised to find Hawke standing there, looking a bit awkward.

Alannah rushed out of the clinic, sidestepping the woman in the drab leather armor on her way.

"That girl looks familiar…"

"That was Alannah, her mother had a babe not so long ago."

Comprehension dawned in her eyes. "Oh yes, the woman we uh… assisted. Well, you assisted. I was your assistant." Hawke laughed, apparently finding that amusing, her green eyes sparkling before she stepped aside to allow an elderly man to shuffle by her.

Anders watched as she moved to lean against the wall, feeling a bit unnerved, knowing she was going to remain there and watch him. But as more people began coming in, he found himself distracted from her presence. It was times like this he wished he did have coin, he was sorely in need of cots. Actual cots, not the few poorly built wooden tables he had scrounged up with aid from Lirene. More rags and blankets would have been helpful too.

"Here."

He looked up, blinking sweat from his eyes as he took in the bowl of water that was being held out to him. He had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was it seemed that he had been working non-stop. What was more surprising that it was Hawke offering this bowl to him. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until just now and nodded gratefully as he took it from her. Anders drained it in three swallows, feeling awkward when she took the bowl away. Straightening upright, he stretched his arms over his head, feeling his back cracking and let out a relieved sigh.

"I've shut your door." Hawke informed him, almost hesitantly. "I didn't know if you were aware, but the sun has set and no one else has come in for a while."

"You've been here all this time?" He asked, astonishment coloring his tone. He really took her in, finally noticing that somewhere along the line she had discarded her chest piece in favor of what had been beneath it. Just an old, threadbare blouse that was cinched at the waist with a thick leather belt, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. When she nodded, he was a bit bemused. "Doing what?"

"Watching you; and I helped where I could." She admitted, her cheeks flushing with an infusion of color. "Washing wounds, applying compresses. I um, found your poultices and potions; you're running low you know."

At that, Anders was mildly alarmed. He was the only one who ever handed out the potions and as such, he had felt no need to arrange them by use as he could identify all on sight. "Oh Maker…" He sighed, walking over to the chest he kept them in. The idea of her going through his things was simply maddening, did the woman have no respect? "What else were you into?"

"Just that, it was unlocked." She sounded oddly cheerful, not taking offense at all to his accusing tone of voice.

"It is rude-"

"To get into someone's personal belongings, I know, my mother has been trying to pound that into my skull since I was a wee girl. However, you were busy and there was a bit of a crowd forming."

"You could have given them anything! Some of these bottles contain-"

"Lyrium, and there was one of a particularly interesting looking poison." Hawke was standing behind him now, her arms folded over her chest, and a scowl creasing her brow. "Your chest has the healer's symbol on it, so I made an educated guess as to its contents before opening it."

"And you can identify these bottles?"

"Most of them, yes."

"Including the lyrium." He turned back to face her after closing the chest, this time locking it, though the anger had left him. At her nod, he frowned. "Most people outside of mages, the Chantry, templars, or smugglers do not ever see lyrium."

"My sister is an apostate, I know what lyrium is."

"Your sister?"

"She was with me the day we came here looking for you." Hawke said flatly, shifting from one foot to the other. "I was trying to help, Anders, I meant no harm."

"I know, Hawke. I am… unused to people just pitching in."

"Or going through your things." She added unhelpfully, obviously trying not to smirk.

"That too." He brushed his hands off on the front of his robes. She had spent a considerable amount of time in the clinic today, even though he hadn't been aware of it and apparently she wasn't ready to leave just yet. That was just odd.

"Can we talk?" She asked hesitantly.

"Aren't we doing that now?"

"About Justice?"

He should have expected that and on some level had been, suppressing a sigh as he turned to clean up the mess left behind after a long, productive day. "Yes?"

"You said you and Justice merged, but…" Hawke hesitated again, obviously trying not to offend him but also wanting to know. "That did not exactly look like a cheerful, happy spirit to me."

"Justice is not happy. Justice is righteous. Justice is hard." Anders tossed soiled rags into what used to be his wash bucket, perhaps with a bit more force than necessary. "There was simply too much hatred in me, Hawke. Justice thought he would be able to overcome that, but… he was wrong. Whenever I see the templars, things that have always enraged me, things I could never do anything about… he comes out and he is no longer my friend Justice but a force of vengeance. And he has no concept of mercy."

Which explained the incident at the Chantry but also raised new questions about what Anders had said last time about him and Justice being completely merged. It didn't seem that way to her and she wondered if he was misleading on purpose or just genuinely blind. According to mother, a section of the Chantry had been blocked off because they were still cleaning up the mess, something about an attack on templars within the holy building itself. It was quite a scandal. Beau had plastered her most innocent and unknowing expression on at the news and steered clear of meeting Bethany's eyes the entire night.

"Can you undo it? Whatever it is you did to fuse you and Justice together?"

"No, I don't think so. So far as I know, the only way to separate a spirit from a person is death."

That was not what she had been expecting to hear.

* * *

"**Who** is this?"

Isabeau had anticipated Aveline being less than pleased with additional help, mostly because this was meant to be guardsmen business and Aveline had gone out and recruited what amounted to a vigilante. Beau being the vigilante in question, though hopefully, when Aveline made her report back to Jeven, she would leave her good friend Hawke out of it. Beau didn't need extra eyeballing from the local peace keepers. Purposefully feigning ignorance, she glanced down at Varric. "This? This is-"

"Varric Tethras, don't insult me, Hawke." Aveline folded her arms over her chest, giving the other woman a stern look. "I meant the mage."

Beau knew Aveline had nothing against mages in general but a loose mage was an apostate, and the only apostate Aveline had shown the willingness to turn a blind eye on was Bethany. Of course, Beau couldn't be sure about any other apostates because she had never seen Aveline interact with any. "This is Anders." She said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He had needed supplies, she had been going anyway, it had seemed… right, to ask him if he wanted to come along, or give her a list of things to watch out for. He had deigned to tag along, knowing what she was walking into, and even said something about being "all right" in the battle mage arena. Whatever that meant, but she was grateful to have a healer coming with, just in case.

"Hawke…" Aveline's eyes closed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling what promised to be a massive headache beginning to form. "I don't have time for your crap today."

"He's a _nice_ mage." Beau wheedled, failing at hiding her amusement.

One eye cracked open, studying Anders for a moment. "Is this true?"

"I'm house broken and everything." He said, biting down the sarcasm. He was used to not being trusted, he was a rogue mage and a retired Grey Warden, he was probably not trustworthy. That never stopped the irritation from flaring though, or the sarcasm that came so readily.

"Great," Aveline rolled her eyes. "a pair of them."

Varric reached up to slap Anders on the back, not bothering to hide his laughter. "Congratulations, Blondie, I think you just made the group."

"Blondie?"

Beau pointed to his head.

"I get that, but 'blondie'?"

"Move out." Aveline ordered, giving Hawke another scathing look. "If this goes wrong, I'll have your hide."

"You may have my hide any day of the week and twice on a holy day."

Throwing her hands up into the air, Aveline turned and marched off, muttering under her breath.

"I like her." Varric announced, watching Aveline storm away. "She's got spunk."

"And a sword, don't forget the sword." Hawke ambled after her friend, knowing when they drew closer to this supposed ambush site, it would be game time. Up until then, however, she wasn't about to be all serious and broody, it might stick and then she'd be as miserable as everyone else around her seemed to be.

Varric fell into step beside her. "So, what is up with Blondie? Not that I mind the extra assistance of course." He bowed his head as Anders joined their stride, taking position on Beau's other side.

"I'm in need of medicinal plants," Anders could answer for himself. "and Hawke was kind enough to let me come along."

Well, that was mostly true, so Beau didn't say a word. She already knew Varric was digging and she wasn't about to throw him a bone. "Bethany says hi."

"Trying to change the subject?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Fine, be that way. Where is Sunshine today?"

"Sick, she caught a bit of a cold and mother insists she stay inside so it doesn't worsen."

"This fresh air probably would have done her some good, but who am I to contradict a mother?"

Beau personally agreed, some fresh air would have done Bethany some good. Being cooped up in that shack that never seemed to be clean no matter how they scrubbed, surrounded by the lovely odors and pollutants that wafted frequently throughout Lowtown, and then their ventures into Darktown… she probably needed fresh air to clear out the gunk that was building in her chest.

"Are you lot coming or will you simply dawdle all day?"

* * *

"**That** was bracing."

"Shut up, Hawke."

Trying to ignore the blood that coated her, Beau leaned over to extend a hand to Aveline. "Are you hurt?" She helped her friend off the ground, looking the redhead over for signs of injuries. She could see bits of blood, and some damage to Aveline's armor, but overall she seemed to be in good condition. Perhaps a little bruised, but nothing serious.

"My pride may be." Aveline began brushing herself off, surveying the scene around them. "Bringing the mage, Anders," She corrected herself. "was a good call."

"Except for that one spell…" She didn't even have to say which one, they were both wearing the results of it in their hair. Not that she knew what it was called. "Ugh… I'll be washing this out for a month, mother is going to kill me…"

Aveline winced in sympathy. She had lived with the Hawke's long enough to know that Leandra was a fine woman but she had some… quirks. "I've got to head back. It looks like everyone is fine." She took in Varric and Anders, her lips curving into a scowl. They both looked pristine, nary a hair out of place. "Do you want to come back with me?"

"Not yet, I told Anders I would help him find some things he needs. Just as soon as I find somewhere to wash off these guts…"

"Saint Hawke you are." Aveline said dryly. "Fine, if you must, but I have to get back."

"Enjoy the bath, won't you? For my sake?"

In spite of herself, a smile tugged the corners of Aveline's lips. "That I will, Hawke. Come see me when you're back, all right?"

Beau nodded and crossed her heart.

Varric looked between Hawke and Aveline, finally sighing and shook his head. "Are you planning on getting into any more trouble?"

"I never actually _plan _ on getting into anything, it just sort of happens. Are you thinking of abandoning me as well?"

"Perhaps." His gaze moved onto Anders, eyes narrowing. "Behave, Blondie."

Beau groaned, rolling her eyes. "Varric… you're like… the older brother I never wanted sometimes."

"Just protecting my… ah, investment." He winked at her. "Look me up when you're back."

"Everyone wants a piece of the Hawke." She sighed, watching as her friends picked their way through what remained of the ambush site. She felt, rather than seen, Anders coming up alongside her. From the corner of her eye, she could see just how clean and gore free he was. "What was that spell?" She asked curiously, gesturing to her hair.

"Walking Bomb." He sounded apologetic as he took her in. "It uh, leaps from one host to the other once the host dies…"

"I noticed that. One goes boom and they all do?"

"If they're within range."

"Know of any cleaning spells, by chance?"

"I do know where a stream is."

That would have to do and Beau gestured for him to lead the way.


	7. Blondie

**7: Blondie**

"**Think** this will be enough elfroot?" Beau felt much better about herself and definitely at peace with the world right now. Anders had shown her to a stream where she had proceeded to bathe herself, properly. The poor guy had realized she was about to shed everything she was wearing and excused himself. By the time he had returned, she was as clean as she could be and had even began setting up camp. Given that they had been out here all day, she had doubted they would make it back in time before the gates were closed for the night. He had found some elfroot but not a lot, so they had gone off again, both more comfortable now that she wasn't stripping.

She had also thoroughly washed her clothing, what little armor she had worn today, and her weapons. Wearing wet clothing had not been high on her list of comfortable things to do, but it definitely ranked over blood and guts. She had skipped the armor, instead setting it out to dry under some bushes, praying nothing would disturb it.

While he had been solely interested in gathering, she had been eyeballing for something to eat, besides plants and not the stale, plain bread she had in her pack. She had sort of lucked out by finding a rabbit. She had also felt bad about killing the poor thing, there was hardly any meat on its bones and it was probably as hungry as she was, but she consoled herself with the thought of something to eat besides disgusting bread. So they had come back to camp with what she thought was a respectable amount of elfroot and a rabbit that might have been enough for a mouthful between them.

Anders was sorting through the plants, wrapping them carefully to be taken back to his clinic. "It'll do for now, but with how fast I seem to go through healing poultices…" Honestly, he doubted these supplies would last a week but there was no point in burdening her with that knowledge. He watched as she gave the tiny pot she had procured from her pack a stir. He idly wondered what else she had in there. "What exactly is it we're having?"

"Uh, on the road stew?"

"Dare I ask?" His cooking skills were non-existent but that didn't prevent him from being picky on occasion.

"I was a soldier." She said flatly, as if it explained everything and ignored his curious stare. When he simply kept staring, Beau sighed. "I served in King Cailan's army, back in Ferelden. When we marched to Ostagar, we had our standard provisions, which were disgusting so we'd grab whatever we could on the go and add it in at the end of the night. On the road stew."

"You were at Ostagar?"

He would have taken that one tidbit. She had never hidden the fact that she had served in the army, but she wasn't overly fond of talking about it either. At least, not about Ostagar, it still hurt to think about the events of that night. "Yes…"

Anders took the hint and finished up his task before moving to sit beside her, stretching his hands out to enjoy the fire she had gotten going. "You know, I escaped the circle tower at least a dozen times."

"A dozen times? I would have executed you just for being a pain in my ass."

"I thought they might a few times, and perhaps it would have been kinder." He allowed, taking the ladle from her in order to prod the 'stew'. "They stuck me in solitary confinement for a year; I thought I was going mad."

"Why didn't you?" She knew she would have, or possibly have committed suicide. Being imprisoned for that long, alone… there was no way.

"Probably because of Mr. Wiggums."

"Mr…. Wiggums?"

"The tower's cat, a mouser."

Anders and the cat thing, she had forgotten about that. "You really like cats, don't you?"

"Cats are honest." He said after a moment. "They either love you, hate you, don't care one way or another or just want to rule the world."

"Rule the world?"

"Some cats have a sense of entitlement. I expect it's because we feed and shelter them. Maybe they think they're gods."

"I'm a dog person myself, less ego involved."

He snorted, moving back when she leaned forward to pull the pot off the fire. "You're Fereldan." The way he said it was as if that one word explained everything.

"So are you."

"Not really, I'm not from Ferelden, I just had the poor misfortune to wind up there."

Beau could sense a story but also heard how his tone of voice had changed, it was definitely less cheerful and she decided a change of topic was in order. Or perhaps they could stop talking and just stuff their faces. "You don't have any diseases do you?" She asked, procuring the bread from her pack. It was disgusting by itself, but when dunked in on the road stew, it became bearable and was definitely more filling.

He looked like he was torn between amusement and being offended. "What do you think?"

"I think you'd lie regardless." She was teasing of course and passed him half her rations. "Here. Let's eat and sleep, I'm sure Aveline and Varric are going to be upset that I didn't return tonight."

"Speaking of… did you know we would be, ah, camping?" He gestured to her pack, which lay right behind her, within easy reach. "It seems you've managed to put every item you own in there."

He was partially right and she turned to eyeball the well-worn, repaired many times over, leather satchel. "It was my father's." She admitted, recalling the many times she had watched him unpack and repack this satchel. "It has sentimental value, obviously, but it's also very practical. Can you guess why?"

"Your father was a mage."

"Yes."

"Is it enchanted?"

She nodded, having stuffed her mouth with bread and stew, smiling at him around the food without slopping it all down her front. At least, she hoped she wasn't. Her mother liked to tell her she had been raised in a barn since obviously none of the table manners Leandra had tried teaching had made an impression. Once she had swallowed down the food, which was probably at least three mouthfuls for a normal person, she would admit she was a pig, she cleared her throat. "I'm not sure what the spell was, or how he managed it, but the satchel holds more than what it probably should, without problem. It's like he enlarged the inside but it doesn't show."

Anders was impressed, and amused. While he found the idea of this spell to be useful, he could imagine some other mages, and those from the Chantry, crying foul and claiming this was an indulgence and abuse of power. "It is very clever but what about the weight? Surely it can't disguise or lighten that."

"No, it gets heavy. Which is why I only pack what I think I'll need."

"And you thought you'd be camping?"

"I was hoping not but…" She shrugged, finishing off her meal. "Here we are, and I'll trust you'll be very pleased with the extra blanket I brought."

Anders couldn't keep an eyebrow from rising or the corner of his mouth from doing a quick quirk upwards. "Really now? Hawke, I know we haven't known each other for very long, but this is quite sudden." He was purring, watching as comprehension dawned slowly on her face, along with a quite comely blush. "It's almost as if you planned this, us alone, under the stars, with-" He began laughing when she sputtered. "I'm teasing! I jest, I swear!" He raised his hands up in mock surrender when it looked like she might hit him.

"You are not funny, mage." Beau said after a moment, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

"I apologize, Hawke, I-"

"I don't offer my favor until the _second_ date."

Now he was the one turning red. "Oh… oh my."

Smirking, she turned away from him, reaching for the satchel.

* * *

"_**Bloody**__ hell Carver, what were you thinking?"_

"_Shove off, Beau, I don't need you coddling me." Carver pushed his sister away from him. What he really didn't need was Isabeau Hawke, leader of a tiny band of rogues –not that they were outwardly called rogues- babying him. Especially in front of their peers. She had signed up as a reserve for the king's army only a year or so after their father's death and had been called on fairly regularly to serve. From his understanding, as a scout most of the time, or to do sneaky, underhanded things that were not mentioned ever. She had been expendable. But since she had kept coming on back and doing the job, she had become somewhat respected. As much as someone like her could be anyway. Just one more thing he had to try to live up too._

"_Excuse me for being concerned."_

"_You're not mother."_

"_Be grateful I'm not, she'd kick your arse home." Beau's normally happy, smiling mouth was turned down in a frown as she regarded him. Her eyes, the same shade of green Malcolm's had been, were narrowed. "Next time you decide you're going to run out ahead of the men and get yourself wounded, remember this moment, because it'll happen all over again."_

_Carver groaned, really wishing she'd go away already. There was nothing quite like being babied and then spoken down to in front of a group of his fellow soldiers. Why oh why had he thought it a good idea to join up with her? When the king had sent word that he was seeking recruits, he had immediately volunteered. Mother had had a meltdown and the only way of consoling her, somewhat, was by basically throwing himself underneath his older sister's wing. The very wing he had been trying to get out from under. _

_Beau simply stared at her brother. "That's what I thought." She said finally, turning and walking away. "You can tend your own damn wounds."_

_Which was what Carver had wanted in the first place. Sighing, he reached for the bowl of now cold water and rag she had brought with her, frowning when he realized that the wound needing treated was on his back, where he couldn't reach. "Isabeau?"_

_She kept walking._

"_Beau?"_

* * *

**Anders** had a hard time sleeping most nights but tonight sleep was all but impossible. For one, he was outside and surrounded by who knew what and sleeping next to a woman he only barely knew. When she began muttering in her sleep, giggling, and said a name –and just who was Carver-, he rolled onto his side and stared at her. She was definitely dreaming something pleasant, if the smile on her face were any indication. Shaking his head, he sat up in order to bank the fire, not about to let it die down and invite any more predators to them than necessary. That and he didn't like the cold; he preferred his feet to stay warm and toasty.

He huddled close to the fire, looking about for the stick he had seen her using earlier. She had made this natural camping, no magic thing looked so easy and for perhaps the thousandth time, he cursed the circle for its lack of a proper education in life skills.

"Foolish of me really, life skills mean cataloguing books, not surviving the wilderness."

"What about books?"

He would admit it; he jumped, and reached automatically for his staff, which he kept within arm's grasp at all times. "Maker's balls, Hawke!"

Yawning, she pushed herself into an upright position and regarded him out of tired eyes. "Can't sleep?"

"No, and now I'm not likely too at all." He rubbed his chest, feeling his heart slowly returning to its normal rhythm. "Bad dreams?"

"No, not really." Considering the usual nightmares she enjoyed, that was rather lovely. It hurt, dreaming of Carver, but… at least it hadn't been _that _dream, the one where she watched him die. Of course, her dreams were usually memories, coming back to replay themselves from different angles and perspective, haunting her as it were. She had felt like she had been Carver, and Maker he had not been pleased with her. "Just… just dreams."

Anders considered that, wondering again at the man she had called for. "Who is Carver?" By her sharp intake of breath, he was guessing a past lover and wondered what had happened to this man. She said she had served at Ostagar, perhaps she had lost him there. "I apologize… I shouldn't have," He began quietly. "It's just… you called his name and I was curious."

"I'm going back to bed, you should try to get some sleep Anders." She was being dismissive, but kind about it. "Maybe tomorrow we'll have better luck finding you more elfroot." She remembered what he had said about going through healing poultices, or rather what he hadn't said. She lay back down, wishing for a proper pillow and not this lumpy, hard satchel and covered herself with the blanket Bethany had insisted she bring.

But she didn't fall back asleep, not right away. Instead, she watched as Anders tended to the fire and just… sat there, staring into the flames. He wasn't handsome in what her mother would have called the traditional way, his nose was a bit on the large side, and his hair… Maker his hair was still a bit of a mess, though he had taken it down. It fell past his ears, not quite touching his shoulders, and looked like it may have been soft to the touch.

"Whoa Beau…" She thought, wondering where that had come from and closed her eyes. She did not want to touch the mage's hair. She was not going to stare at him from her damn bed… she was…

"Would you like me to cast a sleeping spell for you?"

Groaning, she rolled onto her side, presenting her back to him. "No."

"If you're sure…" He sounded amused.

"I'm fine, thank you."

* * *

"**Why** are we going through Dead Man's Pass?"

"Is that what this is? I've heard of it, never been."

Anders was being lead around the countryside by a woman who had less knowledge of the area than he did and she had been here longer. He was doomed. "Hawke…"

"You said you need herbs, we're getting you herbs!"

There was no missing the laughter in her tone and despite himself, Anders smiled. Being around her was easy, even with all the chaos she tended to surround herself with. Chaos turned out to be an understatement when they stumbled onto a rather large group of spiders attacking a dwarf and what looked like mercenaries.

Chaos was definitely an understatement when Beau accepted a proposal from the dwarf that involved qunari.

* * *

"**I've** noticed that you've been spending a lot of time with Blondie."

How did Varric seem to catch wind of everything that happened? Isabeau stared down at him before sinking into the seat he gestured too, shrugging nonchalantly. After the 'adventure' at Sundermount, she had gone back to trying to earn coin for the expedition. In what little free time she had left, she had been spending it with Anders, in his clinic. "I've been helping him."

Varric stared at her for a long moment. "Why?"

"No idea." She knew there was no money in it, which was what she needed at the moment: money. Aveline's little venture had turned up some coin but not much. Now that Aveline had popped into her head, Beau reckoned she ought go visit her favorite redhead. She had dropped in after that morning, only to be told 'wait, I'll see you when I have something', whatever that meant. From the look Varric was giving her, she gathered he was refraining from pointing out her lack of funds. "Have you looked over those maps he gave us?" She asked, changing the subject, somewhat.

"A bit, not that they'll do us any good without coin to finance the trip."

"That stung, Varric."

He grinned at her. "Now Hawke, it was just a gentle reminder that we do have… priorities. I'm all for your new hobby of working with diseased, lice infested people, alongside a possessed mage, truly."

"But working with diseased, lice infested people with a possessed mage is no way to bring in coin." Beau said with a grin to match his, getting his point. "Hear you loud and clear, Varric, I'm on it. In fact… Bethany's been wanting to go have a look at mother's ancestral home, see if we can't find our grandparents will."

"All right?" One golden eyebrow slowly rose.

"And it's in a vault."

Now the other eyebrow. "A vault?"

"Mmm, a slaver vault."

He considered that, stroking his chin. "So when were we leaving did you say?"

Beau smiled.


	8. Break Your Heart

**8: Break Your Heart**

"**What** exactly are we down here risking our lives for?" Anders asked, leaning against a wall, trying not to pant. He was no slouch in combat, but he was a mage, he fought best from afar, with magic. Being attacked from behind was never a good thing for anyone, including him. He hadn't been able to turn and use his staff properly, and honestly… the attack had caught him off-guard enough to make him forget that he didn't actually _need_ the damn thing to use his magic, he was just _used_ to it.

"Several things." Hawke said, busy searching the still warm body of a guard who had tried to take her head off with a pike. "Oh, coin!"

Anders could only watch as she pilfered the corpse, his eyes widening ever so slightly when she pocketed the tiny pouch of coins. "You're stealing from-" He stopped himself, not really as surprised as he pretended to be. The Commander had done the same thing.

"I'm poor and we really need the money." Hawke said without the slightest hint of shame. "Not like he'll need it anymore anyway."

"Wise attitude." Varric nodded approvingly, surveying the wine barrels that lined one of the cellar walls. "I wonder…"

"We're not here to drink, Varric." Bethany reprimanded sternly, glancing at her sister who was done ransacking the corpses. While she knew it was necessary, she found herself unable to do the same as Beau, touch a dead person… take his things. "We're here for-"

"The vault."

"Yes, which should be that way." She gestured with her staff.

* * *

"**Do** you think all this was our grandparent's? And mother's?" Bethany asked in a hushed whisper as she looked around the vault with wide eyes.

Beau shook her head no, busy rifling through a cabinet full of papers, some important looking, some not. "No, I think if it had been, Gamlen would have used it for his gambling."

"You're probably right."

Varric was also examining the vault with interest. "No, this is slaver wealth." He said after a moment. "Bloody money, Sunshine. I doubt if anything of your family is left. Sorry."

"No, it's fine. I should have realized." Bethany murmured, sparing a sideways look at her sister who was still digging in the cabinet. "Find anything, Beau?"

"A few things." Was the short answer. "Including the will. Gamlen is a bastard." She turned to face the others though her stare was for Bethany alone as she held out the document. After Bethany had taken it, she began searching the rest of the vault, filling her pockets with valuables, aware that Varric was now doing the same –stuffing _her_ pockets. She did note that Anders was merely watching them, making no move to help himself to the loot. She supposed she couldn't fault him for it. He had come to help them recover a will, not steal. Even if it was blood money as Varric had pointed out. That made it fair game as far as they were concerned.

"This will fetch more than enough to cover the fifty." Varric said, sounding very pleased as he turned toward his partner. "There'll be plenty extra for outfitting ourselves properly as well."

"Perhaps enough to trade up on crossbows" Beau asked just a little too innocently.

Looking offended, he reached back to pat Bianca. "Ignore her, baby." He murmured. "She's just teasing."

Beau stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

**Even** though they now had the coin to become partners with Bartrand and to join his expedition, Bartrand himself was not ready to go just yet, which meant they had time to kill. Or at least in theory they did, Beau always seemed to find something to occupy what little free time she might have possessed.

After a lovely row with Gamlen, mother had set out to reclaim their ancestral estate, which suited Beau just fine as it kept her busy. It also kept her from asking too many questions. Bethany was keeping to home and Lowtown, staying out of sight of the templars and anyone else who might try to turn her in for a bit of coin or favor.

Beau had no idea how long exactly they would be in the Deep Roads and Varric hadn't been able to give her any definite answer either. With the thought of being gone for an extended period of time, she figured she would make more coin to leave with mother –just incase.

The quest for more funds led her to a dwarf named Anso who had sent her on a wild goose chase –and also Varric who had tagged along for want of anything 'better' to do. Personally, she figured he was just protecting the investment.

Anso's little 'job' actually turned out to be a false lead and a much bigger deal then either Beau or Varric had anticipated. Though they had met Fenris that way.

Personally, from what Beau had learned about Fenris, he seemed… okay. He had serious baggage but most of the people she knew did so she let that slide for now. After stumbling their way into his mess and then out of it, they had helped Fenris to clear out a mansion his former master –a Tevinter mage- had apparently been squatting in. While they had found a lot of dead bodies and otherworldly things, they did not find the mage.

Fenris also seemed to have issues with mages in general, not just Tevinter ones, all in all not that surprising.

* * *

"**Fenris** seemed… capable." Beau said thoughtfully, considering the elf as she picked at the remainder of a meager meal she and Anders had just finished off. "He'll be put to the test tomorrow night. Aveline has another favor she wants me to help with and he's offered to join us in the Deep Roads, I need to know if his only parlor trick is plucking hearts from bodies."

"Aveline…" He murmured, wondering why the name was familiar before it struck him. The red-headed guardswoman they had gone to Sundermount with. "She is your friend in the guard? The one who came to Kirkwall with you?"

Beau nodded, sipping from the flask of wine that rested between them on the rough bench they were sharing, tucked away in the back of his clinic.

The expedition would leave in less than a week and she was assembling her own little crew, with Varric's blessing of course. Now that she was partners with both Varric and Bartrand –who was annoyed very much by this fact- she had made the decision to not go without a few more sword arms into the Deep Roads. So far it was her, Varric, and Fenris. Fenris had offered his services as repayment for their unwitting aid. Bethany would be staying home with mother and Aveline was too busy with her work as a guard to go with them, especially as they had no idea when they would be back.

"Bethany and Aveline aren't going," She said finally. "Not with us to the Deep Roads. But Fenris is, and Varric has someone he wants me to meet sometime tonight. Someone he thinks will be useful."

"I see you're using all your resources then."

"All that I can, yes, and mind you, there aren't many. I do think we'll manage though. There are other mercs on this venture but from the way Varric talks, they're all green."

"You've left one out, you know." Anders commented idly. At her arched brow, he shrugged. "A resource."

"Have I now?"

"Me." He honestly wondered why she hadn't asked him to come in the first place. He was a healer and Maker knew they were going to need a good healer done there, in hell. Not to mention his dubious Grey Warden status, he could sense darkspawn, a useful little trick.

Beau considered that, considered hm. She had actually thought about asking him along –he _was_ a Grey Warden after all – but she figured he was doing too much good here. Not to mention he had made it abundantly clear that he hoped to never set foot in the Deep Roads again.

Anders remained quiet while she contemplated his offer. Over the past several months, when she wasn't busy making coin or raising hell with Varric, or with her family, she had devoted her sparse free time to helping him in the clinic. To helping people who were total strangers and sometimes even ungrateful. For that alone he would have helped her. But he also had another reason for wanting to go, he just wasn't going to acknowledge it.

Denial was a good thing.

* * *

"**And** what do you think of the lovely Isabela, Isabeau?" Varric asked as he walked her home from the Hanged Man. He knew she didn't need an escort, she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he just wanted to talk to her away from the prying eyes and ears.

"I think you'll have too much fun with our names."

"Well, besides that."

"I think she'll need to be watched around the liquor and anything remotely attractive but she'll do."

Varric chuckled at the honest assessment. "So the four of us then, it's settled. Sunshine won't like this, you know."

"Bethie will understand why she can't go." Beau said flatly. She wasn't having another sibling's death on her hands. "Five, by the way."

"Five?"

"Anders is coming."

"Blondie? Really?" Varric stroked his chin as they ambled up the dirty stairs to Gamlen's house, glancing up at her knowingly. "You're still spending quite a bit of time with him, eh Hawke?"

"Some." Was her wary reply. Every time Anders came up, Varric seemed to fish. "I try to help him with the clinic."

"Hmm…"

"It's not what you're thinking dwarf."

"Sure it's not, human."

* * *

"**You're** sure you want to come? It'll be very dully most likely." Beau warned the next morning, sparing a quick look over her shoulder at Anders before turning back to her task. Lirene had asked her to deliver a crate of goods, which sounded easy in theory. However, getting the blasted thing down here, without someone trying to steal it, had been a pain.

She had no sooner entered the clinic when he had announced he was going with her on her favor to Aveline. She had no idea why, it was just supposedly a quiet route they were going to check in on or so Aveline had said, but the way she had said it implied she was expecting trouble. Beau had wanted to ask questions but Aveline had cut her off with some rubbish about not wanting to drag her into the mess in the event the guardswoman was wrong.

"It'll be nice to get out of the clinic for a while." He shrugged, keeping one eye on her back and the other on the clean robe he was adjusting. He had a robe for when he tended people and the second he wore for everything else that wasn't related to ill, diseased people. Beau had once asked him why he just didn't wear regular clothing like everyone else did, like she had seen him wear on very few occasions, in order to draw less attention to himself. He had given her a vague 'robes have their uses' line.

Truth be told, he never had and probably never would get used to having fabric constraining certain areas.

"I've also got to go to Sundermount, again."

"What for?"

"A um, favor."

"You do a lot of favors, don't you." It wasn't a question.

Hesitating, Beau smiled awkwardly. "Actually, it's more like repaying a debt, one I've put off repaying long enough."

From the way she said it, Anders gathered this debt was not something she really cared to discuss. "So we're off to Sundermount, it'll be like a vacation, with work." He said finally, in a light tone, trying to clear away the tension.

"Wait, what? I don't recall inviting you along." It worked because she was smiling slightly.

"I need to look for some fresh herbs for more poultices anyway."

The slight smile was now a full-on grin.

"You know, I had a friend like you." He informed her, returning the grin. "Always getting into trouble… I didn't think I'd be doing that again, the trouble I mean. I must be crazy." He was definitely crazy. Their last expedition to Sundermount had led them to Tal-Vashoth and then to the qunari compound, straight to the Arishok. He had not expected to get out of there alive, especially when she had displayed her inability to be tactful. Endearing most of the time, terrifying then.

"Well… crazy maybe, but at least you look handsome doing it. Fortunately for me, crazy and handsome are two requirements I demand in my men." She shot back. The mood changed instantly and she knew some line had been crossed. She hadn't been aware a line had even been drawn, and the confusion showed on her face as she stared at him, the mirth fading. It was like all the light, what little there was, had been sucked from the room, and Anders had almost gone ashen.

Anders looked away from her, a tortured expression flitting across his own face. "No, Isabeau, don't go there."

She winced at the way he said her name. For the most part, he still used Hawke, occasionally slipping up and calling her 'Beau', which she did not mind at this point, but never Isabeau. It sounded so wrong coming from him.

"That would not end well for us, and the last thing I want is to hurt you."

She had absolutely no idea what to say to that, to diffuse this. So _that_ was the line, and her relatively innocent wisecrack, perhaps borderline flirting, had caused this change in him. She could recall a time, maybe two, where he had seemed to be flirting with her, but with his sense of humor it was hard to tell sometimes. She had flirted back, but perhaps it had never sounded so serious as this time. She didn't know whether to feel disappointed that he didn't _want_ to return the interest or pleased that he did. "I don't mind a little pain, hurt me." She teased, almost desperately, a fallback into her inappropriate humor. "I might like it."

"No," His voice was stern as he walked away from her, dropping down on the bench they tended to share their meals on. "You remember what I did in the chantry."

She nodded slowly. That had been months ago but she would never forget it.

"That is who I am, Isabeau."

Cautiously, she approached him, wishing he wouldn't use her full name. "A man who tried to help a friend?"

"No… no, Isabeau." He wasn't letting her talk around the issue or cover it up with pretty words. "A year ago, maybe, we could have had something but… I'm not that man anymore. I'm not."

"Anders…"

"I'd only break your heart."

She wanted to reach out and touch him, maybe place a hand on his shoulder and offer some sort of silent comfort –which was not something she had a lot of experience with- but Anders closed his eyes and hung his head. He looked so sad that she felt her heart break. When he spoke again, she had to strain to catch his whispered words.

"And that might kill me as surely as the templars."

* * *

"**Your** captain is a right dirty bastard." Beau announced later that evening, feeling satisfied with their work. They had stumbled across Donnic, where Aveline had said he would be, and killed the mercenaries trying to do him a wrong turn. Killing them had felt good. It didn't require her to think or feel, just to act. If anyone noticed her odd mood, they didn't say and she appreciated that.

Aveline nodded, studying the documents the satchel had carried. She had been tracking this for a while, observing routes, listening to the seemingly idle chatter amongst her coworkers, and tonight it had paid off. She had given Beau the run down on everything, noting that Beau was not exactly on game tonight in the thinking department, and made a mental note to inquire about it later. Right now, she had a captain of the guard to confront. "He is indeed. Thank you, Beau, for this."

"Not a problem, Aveline, it gave me something to do."

"I imagine come tomorrow you'll have plenty. I have to get Donnic back to the barracks. Will you come see me before you leave for Sundermount?"

"Probably not. I'll check in when I return though."

"That'll do." Aveline smiled, which for her, was the equivalent of a hug. Aveline was not a hugger. "I'll see you, Beau, try not to get into trouble."

"So says the woman who _pulled _me into a pocket of it!"

"I'm sure you'll forgive me."

From the back of their little group, Anders watched the interaction between the women. He didn't know Aveline as well as he knew Varric, or Beau –no, Hawke-, but even he could see the affection between them. He could also see the way Hawke was carrying herself, stiffly, and not from wounds either. He knew what it was from, their… moment earlier, their very awkward, surprisingly painful moment.

He couldn't lie, he had thought of her potentially to be more than a friend but as he got to know her, he realized that just a tryst wouldn't be enough. It would be unfair, to the both of them, and given his situation, she would be the one to wind up hurt. In the hopes of sparing her pain, it seemed that he had caused some, and it was surprising to realize that she had perhaps returned his blossoming affections. Best to squash it all now, while there was a chance they could eventually salvage their friendship.

Anders met her even stare and returned it, refusing to look away, to feel guilty.

She looked away first.


	9. Exotic Wonders

**9: Exotic Wonders**

**Given** how awkward last night had been Beau thought Anders would back out of the excursion to Sundermount after their incident at the clinic, and the tension between them during Aveline's ventures. She had been wrong. He met her and her companions just outside the city, looking relatively unruffled.

"Good, the gang's all here." Varric said when nobody else spoke, rubbing his hands together as he looked back and forth between the healer and Hawke, wondering exactly what was going on. Deciding to ignore it for the moment, handle business now, and then badger Hawke about it later, he began making the introductions.

"Mages. You travel with mages." Fenris said flatly, not bothering to hide the derision in his tone as he surveyed Bethany and Anders, taking in their robes and the staffs they carried. "Is that wise, Hawke?"

"Probably not, they'll very likely turn into abominations and kill us all in our sleep." She replied in the most cheerful tone of voice she could muster. Her eyes grew cold when he simply stared at her with a firm, grim mouth and a heated gaze. "I trust them both completely. Bethany has proven herself a hundred times over and Anders is a skilled healer."

"I… see…"

"Can you work with them or will we have a problem?"

"I will… watch them."

That was probably the best she was going to get from him and nodded. She'd take it.

"All that tension and none of it sexual… what a shame."

Beau and Fenris simultaneously turned to stare at Isabela, who simply smiled at them and threw a roguish wink at Bethany. Bethany blushed three shades of crimson.

"All right people, onto Sundermount." Beau announced, sparing Bethany further embarrassment when it seemed like Isabela might continue. "I'll not ask any of you to come if you don't want too, this is something I do not-"

"Oh shut up Hawke, we're coming." Varric interrupted with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Don't try to be noble, it doesn't suit you and we're all here anyway. We'll come and help you find the Dalish."

"Find the Dalish?" Isabela studied the sisters intently. "Why are we finding the Dalish?"

Bethany hesitated, wondering just how much to say and glanced timidly at Fenris who was eyeing Anders with obvious dislike. It seemed that Anders was returning the look, with interest. "We have a debt to repay." She answered finally.

"Oh really? To the Dalish? That is-"

"None of your business, we're going now." Beau interrupted, doing her best to avoid thinking of the woman, the witch, they were doing this for. Flemeth. Asha-bellanar, whoever she was, had been a lingering though always on the forefront of her mind and Beau had hoped she would never cross paths with the old woman again once this was done. While Flemeth had been extremely helpful in saving them and then aiding them to Gwaren, for which Beau would be eternally grateful, there was something off about her.

Even Varric remained silent when he seen the look on her face.

* * *

"**What's** going on between you and Blondie?"

Purposefully ignoring Varric, Beau prodded the campfire a little too harshly with the stick she had picked up along the mountain path. Her vigorous prodding caused sparks to fly everywhere, including in her direction. Still avoiding his gaze, she looked across the fire to where Anders was sitting on the hard ground with Bethany alongside their newest acquisition to the group: Merrill.

Merrill was one of the Dalish, second to the Keeper and heir apparent to the position as well as their guide up the mountain. Apparently they were supposed to give Asha'bellanar's amulet a funeral of sorts. Well, maybe not heir apparent, she would have been if not for her desire to return to Kirkwall with them once they had finished with their task. She wouldn't give a reason why, just whispered that it was 'better this way'. Merrill was odd and said a lot of random things. Beau liked her.

Fenris didn't however, but since Merrill was a mage, the dislike was a given. Thinking of Fenris, Beau focused her stare on the elf, unsurprised to find him sitting by himself, or at least trying too. Isabela was sitting a few feet from him, drinking from a flask and trying to lure him into conversation. She was being less than successful at it but not giving up, Beau had to give her points.

"Well?" Varric prodded, still staring expectantly at her.

"Nothing."

"It might make you feel better to talk about it."

"Varric, you are not going to turn my love life or lack thereof into one of your horrid romance novels so stop needling me."

"Why Hawke, I would never needle." He protested, letting her think he was dropping it. He waited until she appeared to relax. "So… you admit there might be love in the mix?"

She was going to strangle him and actually moved to do so, motivated even more when he began laughing at her. What stopped her was the fact that Anders was now watching them curiously. Blushing, she moved back to her seat and just settled for glowering at the dwarf.

He winked at her.

* * *

**Getting** to the top of Sundermount was proving to be much more difficult than Beau had anticipated. Flemeth, or Asha'bellanar as she was coming to think of the old woman thanks in part to the Dalish and Merrill, had said something along the lines of 'about as much trouble as my saving you was' and personally, Beau considered that an exaggeration. The hag had turned into a dragon and flamed the darkspawn, easy as pie.

The ability to breathe flames would have been really useful right about now. Not for darkspawn but for all the damn undead things they were encountering. There were lots of skeletons, some shadowy things, and other things she didn't know the names of. The perk was that there were no wild animals to be found. Not unless one counted the damn spiders that were as big as people, and she wasn't.

After emerging from a cave where they had fought their way through a tide of spiders, skeletons, and shades they came to what seemed like an abrupt stop. Blocking their way was a wall of shimmery air and since it was obviously magical, Beau instinctively looked to her sister for help. None came because Bethany looked just as confounded as her.

"Magic." Fenris growled, not overly pleased. "_More_ magic." He gave the mages one of his stares of disapproval. The only mage who didn't scowl back was Merrill, she wasn't paying him any attention. Instead, she was approaching the barrier.

"I can get us through." She announced quietly, after a moment's hesitation.

"Goodie." Isabela's sarcasm was laced with uncertainty as she shifted from one foot to the other, glancing around cautiously.

Folding her arms over her chest, Beau stepped back to watch, sharing a quick look with her sister.

They all took startled steps backwards when Merrill suddenly procured a knife and slashed it across the palm of her hand, the blood hurling against the barrier as she flung her arm forward. The barrier dissolved, leaving the way free and a group of people staring at the elven mage with various expressions of disgust, astonishment, and fear.

Slowly, Merrill turned to face them, an almost resigned expression on her face.

Fenris, naturally, was the first to break the silence. His head was shaking, a lock of his white hair swaying over his eyes. "Blood magic? Foolish, very foolish."

Merrill took a deep breath, holding out her hands in a pleading gesture, unminding of the fact that one was still bleeding and drawing attention. "Yes, it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us, didn't it?"

Anders was eyeing her hands with disgust and an expression that clearly told Beau he had no intention of healing it. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Beau approached the elf, trying her best not to show what she was feeling. Mostly, it was confusion and a tad pinch of fear. She had a healthy respect for blood magic, thanks to her father and Bethany both being mages and knowing what blood magic could do to a mage. Namely, turn them into abominations. "They don't keep helping, Merrill." She said gently. "They tend to stop around the point when they take over your mind and turn you into a monster."

Bethany groaned when the sarcasm seeped into her sister's voice.

Merrill got defensive at that, openly bristling while binding a strip of cloth around her injured hand. "Well yes, but that isn't going to happen to me. I know how to defend myself."

"I'm sure that's what all the other idiots who dabbled in magic thought." Anders snorted, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"I'm with Blondie on that one."

"Not now, Varric!" Beau wheeled around exasperatedly, throwing her hands up into the air. "Let's… we'll talk about this later. Let's just get this over and done with."

Nodding, Merrill took the lead again. "Be careful ahead, restless things prowl the heights." She cautioned. She stopped at the top of the hill they were about to descend, the view allowing them to see that they were entering what looked to be an ancient graveyard. She didn't glance up when Beau stood beside her. "In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep. The endless dream they called it."

Thunder rolled ominously in the distance.

"But they don't sleep peacefully anymore."

* * *

**The** altar was beyond the graveyard, which had been another mini-war zone to get thru and they all came out with some injury or another from it. Isabeau had taken one look at the altar and then dropped down onto the cold, damp ground. What Anders had called an 'Arcane Horror' had hit her with some sort of exhaustion spell and she was more than feeling it.

"Here…"

She felt Ander's hand on her shoulder and a moment later the familiar warmth of his magic pouring into her. "Thank you." She murmured, strength flooding her limbs again, enough to make her pull herself upright. She turned to him and frowned. "Anders…" He looked like crap.

"I'm fine, I'll be all right." He waved aside her concern, taking a step back. "Can't have our fearless leader on the ground though, can we?"

His smile was almost the normal one he gave her, slightly crooked, and charming, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course not." She sighed, giving her attention back to the altar. It was set at the edge of a precipice that overlooked the valley below, including the Dalish encampment, and was surrounded by a slight stone wall. It was simple in construction, made of stone, but the most remarkable thing was the fact that a small urn of blue fire sat blazing in the center, the wind not blowing it out like one would think.

"This is it." Merrill announced. "Give me the amulet."

Beau reached down to the pouch at her waist and fumbled in it for the amulet, passing it over silently. She watched as Merrill placed it in front of the urn before stepping back, raising her thin arms slightly. She began speaking in Elvish, saying things Beau couldn't understand, nor did she try too. She focused on the fact that the wind was picking up. The second Merrill finished whatever she was saying, light emanated from the amulet, shaping itself into the form of a woman.

Asha'bellanar. Flemeth. Witch.

She looked exactly as Beau remembered her, from the white hair to the cold, dragon eyes. Not a single thing had changed.

"Ah, and here we are."

She sounded exactly the same too.

"A witch!"

"It's all right Fenris," Merrill said quickly. "She means us no harm."

"You hope." Isabela muttered.

While Merrill and Flemeth exchanged what might be tentatively called pleasantries, Beau was doing a quick check on the group to gauge reactions. When she turned back around, the witch was quite close to her, causing Beau to almost take a step away.

"So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain." Flemeth said, her odd gold and somewhat green eyes boring holes into Isabeau. "I half expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket."

"All this time I've been carrying you around in my pocket?" It was the only thing Beau could think of to say.

"Just a piece, a small piece, but it was all I needed." Flemeth hissed softly. "A bit of security should the inevitable occur. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

Beau had no idea what to say to that and even less an idea of who Morrigan was.

"You are no simple witch." Fenris said sternly, having recovered himself and out of range for anyone to physically quiet him.

"Figured that out yourself, did you?" The scorn was evident in Flemeth's tone.

"I have seen powerful mage's, spirits, and abominations but you are none of those things. What are you?"

She was staring intently at him now, one gloved, clawed hand moving up to stroke her chin thoughtfully. "Such a curious lad… the chains are broken, but are you truly free?"

"You see a great deal."

She merely smiled a thin lipped, amused smile, losing interest in him and turning back to Beau. "Destiny awaits us both, dear girl. We have much to do."

"We do?"

"Before I go, a word of advice?" Flemeth turned away from them, staring out over the altar. "We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap."

Beau was alarmed when Flemeth glanced back, alarmed at the fierceness of the witch's eyes.

"It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

* * *

"**You** ready for this, Hawke?" Varric asked as she studied the maps Anders had provided them. Since coming back from Sundermount, she had thrown herself into preparing for the venture in terms of being ready and bringing in whatever extra coin she could to keep her family going while she was away. She had gone over supplies, the maps, and anything else to keep herself busy, and he was guessing: away from home.

They all had been pleasantly surprised with Aveline's announcement of her upcoming promotion to captain of the guard within a few months, pending training and whatnot. Fenris had taken residence in the mansion his former master had left behind. Anders had been preparing Lirene for the influx of needy she was about to come into possession too and Isabela, well… she had been drinking and gambling, the usual.

Hawke had gone and meddled in other affairs when she had run out of expedition related affairs to worry over. She had gotten involved in a matter that had led her back to the Wounded Coast. One had involved a Chantry sister and a mage qunari, that had wound up… weird and frustrating. The sister had obviously set them up and the qunari mage had immolated himself upon finding himself free.

Now she was busying herself with some templar thing. She had run into a young woman in Hightown who had been worrying over her templar recruit brother. Hawke's bleeding heart had gotten to her and she had dived into the matter, against his counsel. She was waiting for night to fall before following a lead to one of the local whorehouses.

"Ready to get it done and over with."

"Just think, when we come back, you'll have what you desire."

"I know… we've been planning for so long and now we're nearly ready to go. It's odd is all." She said quietly, pushing away the half-finished mug of ale she had stopped pretending to care about awhile ago. They were in Varric's quarters, as usual, and the sounds of merry making from the main rooms of the bar reached them quite well through the thin walls. "At least it won't be dull, eh?"

"My dear Hawke, I couldn't imagine anything being dull with you around." He chuckled, dipping his quill into a nearby inkpot, regarding her with interest. He had been badgering her for stories, writing them down, and had declared himself her official biographer because he simply knew she was destined for great things. If not, he would write that great destiny for her and to hell with what was true or not. "When you encountered that ogre, what were you thinking?"

"Mostly if the spit it kept aiming my way would ever wash out of my hair." She was used to his prying and smiled sweetly when he gave her one of his 'don't bullshit a master' looks. "Honestly? I was terrified, ogres are definitely in the top three of things that make me piss myself."

"We'll go with 'annoyed that it dared interrupt your grand escape'."

* * *

"**Idunna** the Exotic Wonder…" Beau couldn't keep the amusement from her voice, ignoring the exasperated look Viveka shot her as the hostess stormed away. She looked around the main room of the Blooming Rose, noting her dear uncle Gamlen busy in his cups. How he could afford the drink was beyond her and it chaffed quite a bit, knowing she was out busting her tail to keep the household afloat and he was here drinking it all away most nights. "Sewer trash, anyone want to wager?"

"That's disgusting Beau." Bethany hissed, trying not to stare at the ample amount of flesh on display. "Let's just find her and get this over with." She was pleased to finally be allowed out of the house but why couldn't her sister ever do anything normal? Like drink and play cards?

"We could rent a room?" Beau suggested innocently, trying to hide her amusement when Bethany flushed. Bethany was still an innocent little virgin, and while fun to tease, Beau preferred her sister keep it that way. Sex was fine, it was great, but… the emotional aspect could be damaging, and Bethany did have tender feelings. Speaking of sex… the idea of renting a 'room' didn't sound too bad and now she was looking around for entirely different reasons.

"Hawke." Anders interrupted her musings, not sounding pleased. "Idunna?"

He had shown up at the Hanged Man, looking odd in his only pair of pants and a faded, dirty tan shirt. He had said something about 'needing a drink' and wound up here with them. He wasn't as overly suspicious as he would have been in his robes, but the staff with attached satchel did look odd. At least to her, not many people seemed to be giving him second looks. She found herself pleased and peeved with his irritation. Pleased he seemed to be jealous; peeved because he had shot her down before she had realized she had been asking. "Right, Idunna."

When they found Idunna, it was obvious she was no exotic wonder, whatever her moniker claimed. Her accent was the worst of it though, it was so fake, and Beau had to wonder how those baby templars could stand it, especially if they were repeat business. She was also trying to bullshit her way out of being questioned and Beau was giving serious thought to just slapping the piss out of her for it.

"Talking… is boring…" Idunna said, thwarting Beau's next attempt at 'tell me about the templars', easing herself on the edge of the bed and patting it. "Why don't we have some real fun?"

"She's right, Beau." Bethany said, sounding odd. "Why don't we wait for a bit?"

"You should listen to your friend."

"What is wrong with you, Bethie? We need to ask her about Keeran." Had everyone but her lost their minds? Even Varric and Anders were gaping at Idunna now.

"You're so bossy, Beau, really."

"Look, I'm here on official business and I want to know about Wilmod and Keeran, now." Beau was going to have to ignore her companions for now and slap them all for being witless wonders later.

"Answer a question of mine first," Idunna said, her voice slithery, though it was beginning to lean towards slithery silk opposed to the snake Beau had been comparing her to. "Who told you about me?"

For the life of her, Beau tried to shoot off a quip about it being none of the whore's business, but her tongue wasn't her own. She could feel it working, hear the words coming from her mouth, but it wasn't actually her. She had always had a healthy respect towards magic and had been on the receiving end of some not so fun spells, but this was new.

"Viveka sold me out…" Idunna stood up, walking calmly until she was face to face with Beau. "She will be dealt with but first… just do one more thing for me."

Beau felt herself nodding slowly.

"Draw your blade and bring it gently across your throat."


End file.
